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THE  CONTEMPORAR  Y  SCIENCE  SERIES. 


Edited  by  HAVELOCK  ELLIS. 


EDUCATION  AND  HEREDITY. 


Education   and 
Heredity. 

A  STUDY  IN  SOCIOLOGY. 

By  J.  M.  GUYAU. 


TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  SECOND   EDITION  BY 

W.   J.   GREENSTREET,    M.A., 

ST.   JOHN'S  COLLEGE,   CAMBRIDGE, 

WITH   AN   INTRODUCTION   BY 

G.    F.    STOUT,    M.A., 

FELLOW   OF  ST.   JOHN'S   COLLEGE,    CAMBRIDGE. 


SCRIBNER    &    WELFORD, 

743   &   745    BROADWAY, 

NEW   YORK. 

1891. 


llx 


EDUCATION  IXm\ 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

PAGE 

Suggestion    and    Education    as    Influences 

modifying  the  moral  instinct       .         .  i-45 

I.  Nervous  Suggestion  and  its  Effects. 
II.  Psychological  Suggestion,  Moral  and  Social. 
111.  Suggestion  as  a  Means  of  Moral  Education,  and 
as  an  Influence  modifying  Heredity. 

CHAPTER  II. 

The  Genesis  of  the  Moral  Instinct.     The 

Role  of  Heredity,  Ideas,  and  Education       46-110 

I.   The  Power  of  Habits,  giving  rise  to  a  Moment- 
ary Impulse  or  to  a  Permanent  Obsession. 
1 1.  The  Power  of  the  Consciousness  and  Idea-Forces, 
the  Moral  Agent. 

III.  Power  begetting  Duty. 

IV.  Possible  Dissolution  of  Morality. 

V.  The  Role  of  Education  and   Heredity  in  the 
Moral  Sense.  _  ,^ 

f>44nf>8 


VI  .*.  CONTENTS. 


•    « 


CHAPTER  III. 

PAGE 

Physical    Education    and    Heredity.      The 

boarding-school.     overpressure    .        .     iii-158 

I.  The  Absolute  Necessity  of  Physical  Education 

in  the  Education  of  the  Race. 
II.  The  Boarding- School  Question. 

III.  The  Question  of  Overpressure. 

IV.  Manual  Work  in  Schools. 

<r       V.  The  Physical  Progress  of  the  Race,  and  the 
Growth  of  Population. 

CHAPTER   IV. 

The  Object  and   Method   of  Intellectual 

Education 159-177 

I.  The  Object  and  Method  of  Intellectual  Educa- 
tion. 
II.  Methods  of  Teaching. 

CHAPTER  V. 
The  School 178-234 

I.  The  Inadequacy  and  Dangers  of  purely  Intel- 
lectual Education. 
II.  Possibility  of  Teaching  Ethics  Methodically. 

III.  Moral  Discipline  in  the  Primary  School. 

IV.  Necessity  for  the  Teaching  of  Civic  Duties  in 

all  stages  of  Instruction. 

V.  Instruction  in  Esthetics. 
VI.  Intellectual  Education. 


CONTENTS.  Vll 

CHAPTER   VI. 

PAGE 

Secondary  and  Higher  Education        .         .     235-259 

I.  Object  of  a  Classical  Education. 
II.   History. 

III.  Science. 

IV.  Technical  Instruction. 

V.  Competition  and  Examinations. 
VI,  Higher  Education. 
VII.  The  Great  Schools. 

CHAPTER  VII. 
The  Education  of  Girls  and  Heredity        .     260-275 

CHAPTER   VIII. 

Education    and   '*  Rotation    of    Crops  "   in 

Intellectual  Culture     .         .         .         .276-282 

CHAPTER  IX. 

The  Aim  of  Evolution  and  Education.  Is 
it  Consciousness,  or  the  Automatism  of 
Heredity? 283-296 

Appendix  .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .  297 

Index        ........  303 


TRANSLATOR'S    PREFACE. 


In  this  posthumous  work  I  have  taken  the  liberty  of 
inserting  many  marks  of  quotation,  which  no  doubt 
would  have  been  added  upon  revision  if  the  untimely 
death  of  the  lamented  author  had  not  intervened.  I 
must  express  my  obligations  to  all  who  have  assisted 
me  while  engaged  upon  this  translation.  I  am  glad 
of  this  opportunity  of  expressing  my  indebtedness 
to  M.  Alfred  Fouill^e  for  his  extreme  courtesy  to  a 
complete  stranger,  and  for  the  trouble  he  has  taken 
to  explain  such  difficulties  as  I  have  from  time  to 
time  referred  to  him  for  solution.  In  particular,  I 
have  to  acknowledge  the  advice  and  unfailing  sym- 
pathy received  from  my  friend  Mr.  G.  F.  Stout, 
whose  ungrudging  assistance  has  been  invaluable. 

W.  J.  G. 

Cardiff, /««^  1891. 


INTRODUCTION. 


Jean-Marie  GUyaU,  philosopher  and  poet,  was  born 
on  the  28th  of  October  1854,  and  died  at  the  age  of 
thirty-three.  His  early  training  was  mainly  due  to 
his  mother,  who  is  known  in  France  as  the  author  of 
various  works  on  education,  and  to  his  step- father, 
M.  Fouillee,  one  of  the  most  remarkable  of  living 
French  philosophers.  At  the  age  of  nineteen,  M. 
Guyau  wrote  a  volume  on  the  Utilitarian  moralists 
from  Epicurus  to  Bentham  and  his  school.  Portions 
of  this  work,  which  was  "  crowned  "  by  the  Academic 
des  sciences  morales  et  politiqueSy  were  afterwards 
expanded  into  two  treatises.  The  first  of  these  was  on 
the  Philosophy  of  Epicurus ;  it  received  a  full  and  ap- 
preciative notice  in  the  English  Journal  of  Philology; 
the  second  treatise  was  an  exposition  and  criticism 
of  contemporary  English  Ethics.  At  the  age  of 
twenty  his  health  broke  down,  and  he  was  practically 
compelled  to  reside  for  the  rest  of  his  life  on  the 
shores  of  the  Mediterranean.  During  the  few  years 
that  remained  to  him  he  showed  himself  marvellously 
prolific,  producing  a  series  of  works  on  the  leading 
problems  of  philosophy,  marked  by  striking  origin- 
ality and  power.  In  addition,  he  also  published  a 
volume  of  poems,  entitled  Vers  d'un  philosopher  ex- 
hibiting a  unique  vein  of  genius.  They  represent  in 
the  clearest  and  simplest  language  the  emotional 
aspect  of  philosophy  ;  in  the  fullest  sense  they  justify 


Xli  INTRODUCTION. 

their  title,  they  are  the  verses  of  a  philosopher  who 
was  in  his  inmost  nature  a  genuine  poet.  From  the 
bibHography  appended  to  this  Introduction  the  reader 
will  see  that  M.  Guyau  gave  to  the  world  three 
sociological  studies  on  Art,  Relfgion,  and  Education 
respectively.  The  last  of  these  is  here  presented  in 
an  English  dress.  Perhaps  a  few  preparatory  words 
on  its  distinctive  aim  and  value  may  be  acceptable 
to  the  general  reader. 

The  main  value  of  M.  Guyau's  work  on  Education 
and  Heredity  is  to  be  found  in  the  point  of  view  from 
which  it  is  written.  The  ultimate  good  of  society  is 
ever  present  to  his  mind  as  the  one  standard  by  which 
to  estimate  and  regulate  all  educational  aims  and 
methods.  At  the  same  time  he  holds  that  the  good 
of  the  individual  is  only  to  be  found  in  social  activity. 
The  development  of  the  life  of  each  of  us  is 
measured  by  the  range  and  intensity  of  our  human 
interests.  Thus,  though  Guyau  is  essentially  prac- 
tical, he  is  not  utilitarian  in  the  bad  sense  of  the  word. 
He  do^s  not  set  up  as  the  ultimate  aim  of  education 
the  acquirement  of  useful  knowledge,  or  the  training 
of  the  intellect,  ox  the  passing  of  examinations. 
These  ends  are  to  be  pursued  only  in  so  far  as  they 
conduce  to  the  "  conservation  of  social  tissue,"  and 
to  the  progress  of  the  race. 

In  accordance  with  his  general  principle,  Guyau 
gives  the  first  place  in  order  of  value,  and  in  order  of 
treatment,  to  moral  education.  Like  Plato,  he  draws 
a  distinct  line  of  demarcation  between  the  morality 
of  impulse  and  the  morality  of  insight.  The  morality 
of  impulse  takes  the  form  of  inward  imperatives 
which  impose  themselves  on  the  mind  of  the  agent 
without  his  knowing  whence  they  come,  or  why  they 


INTRODUCTION.  xiil 

possess  authority.  These  inward  imperatives  are  in 
part  instincts  transmitted  by  heredity.  But  according 
to  Guyau  it  is  also  possible  to  create  them  by  educa- 
tion. In  order  to  elucidate  this  point  he  lays  stress 
on  the  analogy  between  the  operation  of  natural 
instinct  and  that  of  suggestions  made  to  hypnotised 
subjects,  which  are  afterwards  spontaneously  carried 
into  action.  In  such  cases  the  person  who  performs 
the  suggested  action  commonly  feels  himself  under 
a  kind  of  necessity  or  obligation  to  act  as  he  does, 
but  he  cannot  trace  back  this  necessity  or  obligation 
to  its  true  source.  The  artificially  created  impulse! 
governs  him  as  if  it  were  an  innate  instinct.  Now, 
just  as  hypnotic  patients  are  suggestible  because  their 
mental  organisation  is  disordered,  so  young  children 
are  suggestible  because  their  mental  organisation  is 
as  yet  imperfect.  What  the  experimenter  is  able  to 
do  in  the  one  case,  the  educator  ought  to  be  able  to 
do  in  the  other. 

But  the  morality  which  is  based  on  a  blind  sense  of 
obligation  is  only  a  preparation  for  the  morality  which 
is  based  on  insight.  Guyau's  views  on  the  subject 
of  direct  moral  instruction  are  coloured  by  his 
peculiar  ethical  theories.  He  seems  to  start  with 
the  assumption,  which  is  perhaps  not  altogether  justi- 
fiable, that  every  healthy  child  has  a  natural  dis- 
position to  be  active  for  the  sake  of  being  active. 
So  soon  as  he  is  made  aware  of  his  powers  and 
capabilities  he  will  straightway  endeavour  to  realise 
these  powers  and  capabilities.  For  the  same  reason 
he  will  prefer  the  higher  modes  of  self-realisation  to 
the  lower,  so  soon  as  he  becomes  alive  to  the  distinc- 
tion between  them.  Thus  a  child  in  good  physical 
health  and  with  moral  instincts  need  only  be  shown 


xiv  INTRODUCTION. 

how  he  can  live  the  most  complete  life.  When  once 
he  feels  that  he  can,  he  will  at  the  same  time  feel  that 
he  ought.  Ideas  tend  by  their  very  nature  to  act  them- 
selves out.  The  more  pervasive  and  persistent  the 
ideas  the  more  potent  and  enduring  is  this  tendency. 

Now  the  representation  of  an  ideal  self  may  be 
made  the  most  pervasive  and  persistent  of  ideas,  and 
may  thus  become  the  dominant  principle  of  conduct. 
To  effect  this  is  the  aim  of  ethical  education.  It  is  of 
course  essential  that  the  child  should  be  brought  to 
see  and  feel  his  true  relation  to  the  society  of  which 
he  forms  a  part.  He  must  be  led  to  understand  that 
his  own  self-realisation  is  possible  only  if  and  so  far 
as  he  widens  and  deepens  his  social  interests  and 
sympathies. 

Physical  education  is,  in  Guyau's  opinion,  second 
in  importance  only  to  moral  education.  For  on  it 
depends  the  general  health  and  vigour  of  the  race 
— the  general  store  of  energy  necessary  to  moral  and 
intellectual  activity.  To  train  the  intellect  at  the 
expense  of  bodily  health  is  to  kill  the  goose  that  lays 
the  golden  eggs.  This  becomes  apparent  when  we 
consider  the  question  from  the  point  of  view  of  the 
race.  An  individual  may  be  supposed  to  gain  an 
equivalent  in  the  way  of  worldly  success  and  so 
forth  for  the  physical  exhaustion  produced  by  over- 
pressure. But  the  general  result  to  the  race  can  only 
be  decay. 

Guyau's  consistently  sociological  point  of  view 
makes  his  treatment  of  intellectual  education  very 
interesting  and  suggestive.  He  is  led  by  it  to 
emphasise  the  claims  of  aesthetic  and  literary  culture. 
For  him  the  word  useful  means  useful  to  the  com- 
munity and  to  the  race  as  a  whole.     Whatever  then 


INTRODUCTION.  XV 

makes  men  more  human  by  giving  them  a  wider  and 
fuller  sympathy  with  their  fellow-men  is  useful  par 
excellence.  Now  Guyau  holds  that  it  is  the  function  of 
art  and  literature  to  bind  society  together.  They  supply 
common  sources  of  enjoyment  disconnected  from  the 
private  aims  and  interests  of  the  individual.  They  give 
definite  form  and  vivid  colouring  to  ideals  in  an  ob- 
jective embodiment  which  is  common  property,  and  in 
this  way  they  tend  to  excite  a  common  impulse  towards 
the  realisation  of  ideal  ends.  Lastly,  in  so  far  as  they 
reflect  human  life  and  emotion,  they  tend  to  widen 
the  mental  horizon  of  the  individual  by  giving  him 
enlarged  sympathy  and  insight.  With  these  ideas  of 
the  nature  and  scope  of  art  it  is  not  surprising  that 
Guyau  should  regard  aesthetic  education  as  more 
important  than  scientific.  Botany  and  chemistry  are 
good  in  their  way;  but  poetry  is  indispensable. 

The  reader  may  perhaps  be  somewhat  perplexed 
by  the  title  of  the  book.  He  may  be  led  to  expect  a 
discussion  of  the  relative  parts  played  by  "  nature  and 
nurture"  in  forming  the  character  of  the  individual. 
Now  the  only  passage  in  which  this  subject  is  directly 
discussed  is  contained  in  the  last  section  of  Chapter  II. 
The  book  as  a  whole  seems  to  be  concerned  merely 
with  Education  apart  from  Heredity.  Nevertheless, 
the  title,  Education  and  Heredity^  is  quite  appropriate. 
It  indicates  the  general  standpoint  of  the  author. 
Guyau  never  for  a  moment  loses  sight  of  the  fact  that 
every  child  is  a  possible  parent,  and  that  on  the  edu- 
cation of  the  child  depends  the  future  of  the  race. 
The  physical,  intellectual,  and  moral  health  of  each 
generation  must  be  so  cared  for  as  to  ensure  the 
physical,  intellectual,  and  moral  health  of  posterity. 

G.  F.  S. 


WORKS  BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR. 


La  Morale  d'Epicure  et  ses  rapports  avec  les  doctrines  contem- 

poraines. 
La  morale  anglaise  contemporaine. 
Les  Probl^mes  de  I'esth^tique  contemporaine. 
Esquisse  d'une  morale  sans  obligation  ni  sanction. 
L'Irrdligion  de  I'avenir,  etude  de  sociologie. 
Vers  d'un  philosophe. 
L'Art  au  point  de  vue  sociologique. 
La  Gen^se  de  I'idee  de  temps. 
Le  manuel  d'Epict^te,  traduction  en  Frangais. 
Ciceron :  De  Finibus,  Edition  classique. 
Pascal :  Entretien  avec  M.  de  Sacy,  Edition  classique. 
La  Premiere  ann^e  de  lecture  courante,  livre  de  morale  pour  les 

ecoles  primaires. 
L'annee  preparatoire. 
L'ann^e  enfantine. 


PREFACE. 


It  is  in  paternity  alone  that  man  first  "  sounds  the 
depths  of  his  heart " — in  complete,  conscious  paternity, 
that  is  to  say,  in  the  education  of  his  child.  Ah  !  the 
patter  of  the  little  feet !  the  light  and  gentle  patter- 
ing of  the  feet  of  the  generations,  that  come  as  doubt- 
ful and  uncertain  as  the  future.  And  perhaps  that 
future  will  be  determined  by  the  way  in  which  we 
bring  up  the  new  generations. 

Flaubert  says  that  life  ought  to  be  an  incessant 
education,  that  "  from  speaking  to  dying  "  everything 
has  to  be  learned.  Left  to  chance,  this  long  education 
is  every  moment  deviating.  Even  parents,  in  most 
cases,  have  not  the  slightest  idea  of  the  aim  of 
education,  especially  when  the  children  are  still  very 
young.  What  is  the  •  moral  idea  set  before  most 
children  in  a  family?  Not  to  be  too  noisy,  not  to 
put  the  fingers  in  the  nose  or  mouth,  not  to  use  the 
hands  at  table,  not  to  step  into  puddles  when  it  rains, 
etc.^  A  reasonable  being !  In  the  eyes  of  many 
parents  the  reasonable  child  is  a  marionette,  which 
is  not  to  stir  unless  the  strings  are  pulled  ;  he  is 
supposed  to  have  hands  which  are  meant  to  touch 
nothing,  eyes  which  are  never  to  sparkle  with  desire 
for  what  he  sees,  little  feet  which  must  never  trot 
noisily  on  the  floor,  and  a  silent  tongue. 

^  From  a  higher  point  of  view,   is   the  ideal  of  most   men    more 
elevated  of  its  kind  ? 


XVlll  PREFACE. 

Many  parents  bring  up  their  children,  not  for  the 
children's  sake,  but  for  their  own.  I  have  known 
parents  who  did  not  wish  their  daughter  to  marry, 
because  it  would  involve  separation  from  her  ;  others 
who  did  not  want  their  son  to  take  up  this  or  that 
profession  (that  of  a  veterinary  surgeon,  for  instance), 
because  it  was  displeasing  to  them,  etc.  The  same 
rules  dominated  their  whole  course  of  conduct  towards 
their  children.  That  is  egoistic  education.  There  is 
another  kind  of  education  which  has  as  its  object, 
not  the  pleasure  of  the  parents,  but  the  pleasure  of 
the  child  as  estimated  by  the  parents.  Thus  a 
peasant,  whose  whole  life  has  been  spent  in  the  open 
air,  will  consider  it  his  duty  to  spare  his  son  the 
labour  of  tilling  the  soil ;  he  will  bring  him  up  to 
make  him  a  government  clerk,  a  poor  official  stifled 
in  his  office,  who,  cooped  up  in  a  town,  will  sooner  or 
later  die  of  consumption.  True  education  is  disinter- 
ested :  it  brings  up  the  child  for  its  own  sake ;  it  also 
and  especially  brings  it  up  for  its  country  and  for  the 
human  race  as  a  whole.  In  the  various  works  I  have 
published  I  have  had  a  single  end  in  view  :  the  linking 
together  of  ethics,  aesthetics,  and  religion,  with  the  idea 
of  life — life  in  its  most  intensive,  extensive,  and  there- 
fore most  fruitful  form  ;  it  is  this  idea  therefore  which 
will  supply  us  in  this  volume  with  the  object  of 
^.  4ucatioi%  the  fundamental  formula  of  pedagogy. 
Pedagogy'  might  be  defined  as  the  art  of  adapting 
I  new  generations  to  those  conditions  of  life  which  are 
the  most  intensive  and  fruitful  for  the  individual  and 
Uhe  species.  It  has  been  asked  if  the  object  of 
yeducation  is  individual  or  social ;  it  is  simultaneously 
/individual  and  social  :  it  is,  to  speak  accurately, 
I  the  search  for   means  to   bring    the  most  intensive 


PREFACE.  XIX 

individual  existence  into  harmony  with  the  most 
extensive  social  life.  Besides,  in  my  opinion,  there 
is  a  profound  harmony  underlying  the  antinomies 
between  individual  existence  and  collective  existence ; 
whatever  is  really  conformable  to  the  summum  bonum 
of  individual  life  (moral  and  physical)  is  ipso  facto 
useful  to  the  whole  race.  Education  ought,  there- 
fore, to  have  a  triple  end  in  view : — ist.  The  har- 
monious development  in  the  human  individual  of  all 
the  capacities  proper  to  the  human  race  and  useful 
to  it,  according  to  their  relative  importance.  2nd. 
The  more  particular  development  in  the  individual  of 
those  capacities  which  seem  peculiar  to  him,  in  so  far 
as  they  cannot  disturb  the  general  equilibrium  of  the 
organism,  3rd.  To  arrest  and  check  those  tendencies 
and  instincts  which  may  disturb  that  equilibrium — in 
other  words,  to  aid  heredity  in  proportion  as  it  tends 
to  create  permanent  superiority  within  the  race,  and 
to  resist  its  influence  when  it  tends  to  accumulate 
causes  pernicious  to  the  race  itself.  Thus  education 
becomes  the  pursuit  of  the  means  of  bringing  up 
the  largest  number  of  individuals  in  perfect  health, 
endowed  with  physical  or  moral  faculties  as  well 
developed  as  possible,  and  thereby  capable  of  contri- 
buting to  the  progress  of  the  human  race, 
r-  It  follows  that  the  whole  system  of  education 
/should  be  orientated  with  reference  to  the  mainten- 
lance  and  progress  of  the  race.  In  time  past  the 
creeds  of  a  race  acted  by  means  of  education,  and 
preserved  either  the  elect  of  a  people  or  the  nation  as 
a  whole.  In  this  direction,  therefore,  education  must 
act  to-day.  In  my  opinion  education  has  been  far 
/too  much  looked  upon  as  the  art  of  bringing  up  the 
^individual — apart    from    the   family    and    the    race. 


XX  PREFACE. 

From  the  individual  we  try  to  get  the  best  yield  ;  but 
it  is  as  if  a  farmer  were  to  endeavour  for  a  few  years 
to  get  the  largest  possible  crops  from  a  field  without 
restoring  to  the  land  what  he  has  taken  from  it :  the 
field  would  eventually  be  exhausted.  This  is  the  case 
with  exhausted  races ;  but  with  this  difference,  that  land 
lasts  for  ever,  and  in  the  long  run  regains  its  original 
fertility  by  rest  and  lying  fallow,  while  the  exhausted 
race  may  grow  weaker  and  disappear  for  ever. 
Recent  studies  in  heredity  (Jacoby,  De  Candolle, 
Ribot),  statistics  of  the  professions,  etc.,  have  shown 
in  a  very  striking  manner  that  certain  environments, 
certain  professions  or  social  conditions,  are  fatal  to 
the  race  in  general.     People  talk  of  the  "  devouring 

[existence"  of  our  great  towns,  without  realising  that 
they  are  not  using  a  mere  figure  of  speech,  but  are 

[speaking  the  sober  truth.  Towns  are  the  whirlpools 
of  the  human  race,  said  Jean  Jacques.  As  much  may 
be  said,  not  only  of  great  towns,  but  of  most  places 
where  there  is  a  fashionable  world,  where  there  are 
salons,  theatres,  and  political  assemblies  ;  all  excess  of 
nervous  excitement  in  the  individual  will,  by  the 
law  of  organic  equilibrium,  introduce  into  the  race 
either  mental  weakness  or  diseases  of  the  nervous 
system,  or  some  form  of  physiological  derangement 
which  will  issue  in  sterility.  According  to  the 
statisticians,  there  are  "  devouring "  provinces  and 
towns,  districts  peopled  only  at  the  expense  of  the 
neighbourhood  which  is  thus  more  or  less  exhausted  ; 
similarly,  there  are  "  devouring "  professions  ;  and 
they  are  often  the  most  useful  to  the  progress  of  the 
community,  and  at  the  same  time  the  most  tempting 
to  the  individual.  In  fact,  some  have  gone  so  far  as 
/  to  assert   that   every   intellectual    superiority  in    the 


'in; 


PREFACE.  XXI 

struggle  for  existence  is  a  sentence  of  death  for  the 
race,  that  progress  is  literally  made  by  the  sacrifice  of 
the  very  individuals  or  races  who  have  worked  the 
hardest  in  the  direction  of  progress,  that  the  best 
condition  for  the  permanence  of  the  race  is  life  as 
little  intellectual  as  possible,  and  that  all  education 
which  over-excites  a  child's  faculties,  which  tries  to 
make  the  child  a  rare  and  exceptional  being,  is  ipso 
^acto  endeavouring  to  destroy  both  the  individual  and 
the  race.^ 

I  think  this  assertion  is  partly  true  for  education  as 
at  present  organised,  but  I  shall  show  that  education, 
when  better  understood  and  more  far-sighted  in  its 
aims,  might  remedy  this  exhaustion  of  the  race,  just  as 
in  agriculture  exhaustion  of  the  soil  is  remedied  by 
rotation  of  crops. 

It  is  only  in  modern  times  that  science  has  been 
formed  ;  a  crowd  of  subjects  of  knowledge  have 
sprung  up,  which  are  not  as  yet  adapted  to  the  human 
mind.  This  adaptation  can  only  be  produced  by  a 
rational  division  and  classificatiorr  of  the  different 
subjects  of  study;  and  the  mind  is  exposed  to  suffer- 
ing and  overpressure  because  this  division  is  not  yet 
effected.     It  follows  that  the  science  of  education  must 

Ebe  harmonised  with  new  conditions.  Education  must 
be  organised — that  is  to  say,  we  must  establish  the 
subordination  of  subjects  of  study  and  their  hierarchy 
in  the  social  unity.^  As  Spencer  justly  remarks,  the 
more  perfect  and  therefore  the  more  complex  an 
organism  is,  the  more  difficulties  beset  its  harmonious 
development. 

^  Vide  Qi2\ion,  Natural  Inheritance^  Appendix  F,  p.  241.     (Tr.) 

<^  *^  Vide  Dr.  J.  Ward,  "  Ec^cational  Values, "y<?«r«a/ (t/" -£'^;?^^a/?V7«, 
November  1890.      (Tr.) 


XXll  PREFACE. 

The  education  of  each  new-comer  in  the  case  of  the 
lower  races  of  animals  is  not  of  long  duration  ;  and 
whatever  is  not  actually  taught  it  by  others  will  be 
taught  it  by  life,  and  that  without  great  danger ;  its 
instincts  are  simple,  therefore  but  few  experiences 
are  necessary  for  its  guidance.  But  the  higher  we 
rise  in  the  scale  of  beings,  the  longer  is  the  evolution  ; 
the  necessity  of  a  real  education  then  begins  to  make 
itself  felt ;  the  adults  must  help,  support,  and  succour 
the  young  for  a  longer  period,  as,  for  instance,  in 
the  case  of  the  higher  mammiferous  animals,  the 
mother  must  carry  the  young  and  suckle  it.  So 
even  in  animals  we  find  the  germ  of  a  kind  of  primi- 
tive pedagogy :  education  is  a  prolongation  of  this 
suckling,  and  its  necessity  is  derived  from  the  laws  of 
evolution. 

Here,  however,  a  serious  objection  is  presented,  to 
which  Spencer's  own  ideas  have  given  rise.     Must  it 
fbe  maintained,  as  has  been  done,  that  education  is 
/  useless,  or  even  powerless,  because  human  evolution  is 
I  necessary,   and   that   evolution   always    depends    on 
(heredity?     In   the   last    century   the   importance   ofS 
education  was  so  far  exaggerated    that   a  man  like  j 
Helvetius  naively  asked  if  all  the  difference  between! 
men  does  not  spring  from  nothing  but  the  difference  of\ 
instruction  they  have  received,  and  from  their  varied/ 
environment ;   if  talent   and  virtue   alike   cannot  be/ 
taught.     We  are  now  thrown  upon  distinctly  opposite 
assertions    by    recent    studies    in    heredity.      Many 
philosophers   and   men  of  science    now  believe  that 
education  is  radically  powerless  when  it  has  to  modify 
to    any   great    extent   the   racial    temperament   and 
character   of  the   individual  ;    according   to   them    a 
s    criminal  as  well  as  the  poet  nascitur  nonfit;  the  child's 


PREFACE.  XXlil 

whole  moral  destiny  is  contained  in  it  while  yet 
unborn,  and  in  later  life  this  destiny  develops  itself 
relentlessly.  Obviously,  then,  there  is  no  possible 
remedy  for  this  common  disease  called  neurasthenia^ 
to  which  all  criminals,  poets,  visionaries,  the  insane, 
hysterical  women — in  fact,  all  whose  mental  equili- 
brium is  disturbed — are  subject  ;  races  simultaneously 
descend  the  scale  of  life  and  morality,  and  there  is  no 
ascent.  The  disequilibrated  are  for  ever  lost  to 
humanity ;  if  they  do  propagate  their  kind  for  a 
longer  or  shorter  period,  it  is  all  the  worse  for  them. 
The  Jukes  family,^  starting  from  a  drunkard,  pro- 
duced in  seventy-five  years,  200  thieves  and  assassins, 
248  invalids,  and  90  prostitutes.  By  the  ancients, 
whole  families  were  proscribed  as  impure  ;  it  must  be 
confessed  antiquity  was  right.  We  are  told  in  the 
Bible  that  the  sins  of  the  fathers  were  visited  upon  the 
children  to  the  third  and  fourth  generations  :  modern 
science  pronounces  curses  of  the  same  kind,  and 
seems  to  justify  the  Jews  by  the  remark,  that  every 
moral  characteristic,  good  or  bad,  does  in  fact  tend  to 
persist  for  about  five  generations,  and  then  to  be 
effaced  altogether  if  abnormal.  Woe,  then,  to  the 
weak !  they  must  be  eliminated,  and  we  must  merci- 
lessly apply  to  them  the  words  of  Jesus  to  the 
Canaanitish  woman — Jesus,  pitiless  and  angered — "  It 
is  not  meet  to  take  the  children's  bread  and  to  cast  it 
to  the  dogs.  "2 

In  fact,  between  the   powers  attributed  by  some 
thinkers  to  education,  and  by  others  to  heredity,  is  an 

1  The  Criminal,  Havelock  Ellis  (Walter  Scott),  p.  100.     (Tr.) 

^   Vide  Fere,   Sensation  et  mouvement ;  Dr.    Jacoby,  La  Selection; 

Dr.  Dejerine,  L  ^ HerSdite  dans  les  maladies  du  systeme  nerveux  ;  and  the 

Italian  criminalists — Lombroso,  Ferri,  Garofalo. 


xxiv  PREFACE. 

antinomy  dominating  the  whole  of  moral  and  even 
political  science ;  for  if  the  effects  of  heredity  are 
without  a  remedy,  political  science  is  paralysed.  The 
problem  has  therefore  a  twofold  aspect,  and  needs 
serious  examination.  I  shall  endeavour  to  exhibit 
the  exact  role  belonging  to  the  two  terms  before  us, 
namely,  hereditary  or  ancestral  habit,  and  individual 
habit — the  one  incarnate  in  the  organism,  and  the 
other  acquired.  We  shall  examine  if  the  laws  of 
^r,^^^.-^^  suggestion^  which  have  been  recently  ascertained  by 

Stnfpsycho-physiologists,  and  of  which  the  effects  are 
still  imperfectly  known,  do  not  constitute  a  new 
element,  and  if  we  cannot  by  their  aid  modify  the 
data  of  the  problem.  Modern  discoveries  in  sugges- 
tion seem  to  me  of  capital  importance  in  education, 
because  they  ^\m^  us  the  power  of  ascertaining  de 
facto  the  possibility  of  always  creating  in  a  mind, 
at  every  stage  of  its  evolution,  an  artificial  instinct 
capable  of  producing  an  equilibrium  of  long  or  short 
persistence  in  pre-existing  tendencies.  If  this  intro- 
duction of  new  sentiments  is  possible  by  entirely 
physiological  means,  it  should  be  equally  possible  by 
moral  and  psychological  means.  Recent  studies  on 
the  nervous  system  will  be  adapted  to  correct 
scientific   prejudices   by   means  of  a  more  complete 

.  science.  Suggestion,  which  creates  artificial  instincts, 
capable  of  keeping  in  equilibrium  the  hereditary 
instincts,  or  even  of  stifling  them,  constitutes  a  new 
power,  comparable    to   heredity  itself;    now,  in   my 

(opinion,  education  is  nothing  but  a  totality  of  co-or- 
^    |dinated  and  reasoned-out  suggestions;  and  we  may 
readily  foresee  the  efficiency  it  may  acquire  from  the 
psychological  and  the  physiological  points  of  view. 

J.  M.  G. 


61  ,^. 


EDUCATION  AND   HEREDITY. 


THE  r6lE  of  heredity  AND 
SUGGESTION  IN  MORAL  EDUCATION. 


CHAPTER  I. 

SUGGESTION   AND   EDUCATION   AS   INFLUENCES 
MODIFYING   THE   MORAL   INSTINCT. 

I.  T^e  Effects  of  Nervous  Suggestion. — Suggestion  {a)  of  .sensa- 
tions and  sentiments,  {b)  of  ideas,  {c)  of  volitions  and  actions — The 
possibility  of  creating  by  suggestion  new  instincts,  and  even  instincts 
of  a  moral  character — Suggested  obligations — Artificial  duties — The 
possibility  of  **  moralising"  and  demoralising  the  subject — Suggestion 
as  a  means  of  moral  reformation. 

II.  Psychological,  Moral,  and  Social  Suggestion. — Suggestion  by 
example,  by  command,  by  authority,  by  assertions,  by  the  use  of 
words,  by  gestures,  etc. — Suggested  beliefs — Suggestion  is  the  intro- 
duction into  our  being  of  a  practical  belief  which  realises  itself 
spontaneously. 

III.  Suggestion  as  a  Means  of  Moral  Education,  and  as  an  Influence 
Modifyi^tg  Heredity. — The  true  moral  authority  of  the  educator — 
Punishments— On  inspiring  self  confidence — Suggestions  to  be  pro- 
duced, and  suggestions  to  be  avoided, 

I 


2     :^DWATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

I.  Nervous  Suggestion  and  its  Effects, 

The  well-known  results  of  nervous  suggestion  affect 
the  sensibility,  the  intellect,  and  the  will ;  sensations, 
sentiments,  ideas,  and  volitions,  may  be  suggested. 
"  A  man,"  says  Shakespeare, 

"...  can  hold  a  fire  in  his  hand 
By  thinking  on  the  frosty  Caucasus ; 
Or  cloy  the  hungry  edge  of  appetite 
By  bare  imagination  of  a  feast ; 
Or  wallow  naked  in  December  snow 
By  thinking  on  fantastic  summer's  heat."  ^ 

Suggestion  realises  Shakespeare's  words.  If  a  hyp- 
notised subject  is  persuaded  that  he  is  in  danger  of 
perishing  in  the  snow,  he  shivers  with  cold  ;  if  he  is 
told  that  the  room  is  excessively  warm,  he  imme- 
diately perspires  with  the  heat. 

During  the  hypnotic  sleep,  or  during  catalepsy,  M. 
F^r^  has  suggested  to  patients  the  idea  that  on  a 
dark  table  there  was  a  portrait  in  profile ;  when  they 
awoke  they  distinctly  saw  the  portrait  in  the  same 
place ;  and  when  a  prism  was  placed  before  one  eye, 
they  were  hugely  surprised  to  see  two  profiles.^  The 
-lateral  compression  of  the  eyeball  of  the  hypnotised 
subject  is  enough  to  displace  the  optical  axis  and 
produce  diplopia.  This,  as  Dr.  Hack  Tuke  points 
out,^  is  due  to  the  possibility  of  a  central  sensation, 
objective  in  its  origin,  supplanting  a  sensation  derived 
from  a  peripheral  impression.  The  suggested  sensa- 
tion is  impressed  upon  that  region  of  the  cerebral 
cortex   which   is    ordinarily   impressed    by   the   real 

^  Richard  II,,  Act  I.,  Sc.  iii.,  294-299. 

2  Moll,  Hypnotisjn,  pp.  280,  281  (Walter  Scott).     (Tr.) 

3  The  Influence  of  the  Mind  upon  the  Body  (1872),  p    31. — Binet  and 
Fere,  Animal  Magnetism  (Kegan  Paul),  pp.  230,  231.     (Tr.) 


NERVOUS   SUGGESTION    AND    ITS   EFFECTS.  3 

sensation — a  region  which  has  become  the  seat  of  a 
kind  of  local  hypnotism.  An  attendant  at  the  Crystal 
Palace,  whose  duty  it  is  to  manipulate  a  galvanic 
battery,  has  often  noticed  that  ladies  who  had  hold 
of  the  handles  experienced  peculiar  sensations,  and 
that  they  quite  believed  that  they  were  galvanised 
before  the  machine  had  begun  to  act^ 

"In  1862,"  says  Mr.  Woodhouse  Braine,  "I  was 
called  in  to  administer  chloroform  to  a  young,  very 
nervous,  and  highly  hysterical  girl,  from  whom  two 
tumours  had  to  be  removed.  I  sent  out  for  the 
chloroform,  and  in  the  meantime,  to  accustom  her 
to  the  mask,  I  placed  it  on  the  patient's  face ;  imme- 
diately she  began  to  breathe  irregularly.  After  half  a 
minute  she  said  :  *  Oh !  I  feel  I  am  going  off! '  The 
chloroform  had  not  yet  arrived.  A  gentle  pinch 
produced  no  effect ;  I  pinched  her  severely,  and  to 
my  great  surprise  she  felt  nothing.  This  seemed  a 
favourable  opportunity,  and  I  asked  the  surgeon  to 
begin  the  operation.  At  its  conclusion  I  asked  the 
patient  if  she  had  felt  anything.  *  No  1 '  she  said,  *  I 
do  not  know  what  has  happened.*  When  she  left 
the  hospital,  she  was  still  a  firm  believer  in  the  power 
of  the  anaesthetic  which  had  been  given  her." 

It  is  well  known  that  stigmata  are  a  phenomenon 
of  auto-suggestion.  The  reader  is  familiar  with  the 
case  of  Louise  Lateau,  the  Belgian  stigmatic.  The 
periodicity  of  the  stigmata  is  readily  explained  by 
the  fact  that  an  association  was  established  between 
certain  days  of  the  week  and  the  ideas  determining 
the  physical  result.^ 

1  Take,  o/>,  «/.,  p.  34.     (Tr.) 

2  Vtdg  Carpenter's  Mental  Physiology^  p.  689,  and  Moll's  Hypnotism^ 
p.  117.     (Tr.) 


4  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

Ideas  of  action,  and  volitions,  may  be  suggested  as 
in  the  case  of  sensations.  Take  a  hypnotised  subject: 
we  can  suggest  to  him  this  or  that  idea  of  action,  as, 
for  instance,  a  visit  to  some  one  at  a  certain  day  and 
hour,  a  mistake  in  the  spelling  of  his  own  signature  to 
a  letter,  the  opening  of  a  book  and  reading  the  first 
twenty  words  on  page  lOO,  repeating  a  prayer,  taking 

\a  handkerchief  from  the  pocket  of  some  one  in  the 
room  and  throwing  it  into  the  fire,  etc.     This  idea  of 

I  action,  instilled  during  the  hypnotic  sleep,  haunts  the 
patient's  mind  when  he  awakes,  becomes  a  fixed  idea, 
and  in  most  cases  pursues  him  until  he  has  in  some 
way  or  other  worked  it  out.  Moreover,  when  he  is 
working  out  this  idea,  he  fancies  he  is  acting  quite 
spontaneously,  and  obeying  a  whim  of  his  own;  he 
attributes  to  himself  another's  will  implanted  in  him, 
and  he  often  finds  almost  plausible  reasons  to  justify 
the  irrational  acts  he  has  been  made  to  perform.^ 

In  addition  to  the  ideas  and  beliefs  that  may  be 
thus  suggested,  in  addition  to  volitions,  sensations, 
and  hallucinations,  we  may  instil  sentiments^ — admi- 
ration or  contempt,  sympathy  or  antipathy, — and 
passions  and  emotions,  such  as  permanent  fear. 
And  all  these  suggestions,  so  certain  sometimes  in 
their  action,  may  be  ^w^n  instantaneously  ;  within 
fifteen  seconds  we  may  by  a  sudden  gesture  stop  a 
subject  on  his  way  between  two  doors,  throw  him 
into  a  state  of  cataleptic  immobility,  produce  som- 
nambulism, suggest  actions  to  him,  and  then  awaken 
him.^  The  subject  will  probably  be  unaware  that  he 
has  been  asleep,  he  will  have  only  felt  a  slight  and 

^  Moll,  Hypnotism,  pp.  154,  155. — Binet  and  Fere,  Animal  Mag- 
netism^ pp.  290,  291.     (Tr.) 

2  Moll,  Hypnotism^  pp.  259,  260.     (Tr.) 


NERVOUS   SUGGESTION    AND   ITS   EFFECTS.  5 

transient  tremor;  but  a  new  idea  is  from  that  moment 
implanted  in  him,  an  impulse  which,  if  unimpeded, 
will  very  soon  pass  into  action  :  fifteen  seconds  have 
sufficed  to  put  the  hand  on  the  lever  of  the  human 
machine.  If  this  be  so,  can  we  not  go  further  and 
create  genuine  instincts,  and  those  of  a  moral  kind  ? 
While  habit  or  instinct  is  at  first  organic,  to  be 
afterwards  reflected  in  the  form  of  an  idea  in  the 
domain  of  consciousness,  suggestion  shows  us  an  idea 
penetrating  from  without  into  the  brain  of  an  indi- 
vidual, striking  root,  so  to  speak,  and  eventually  trans- 
forming itself  into  a  habit.  The  order  is  inverted, 
the  practical  result  is  the  same.  I  believe  I  was  the 
first  to  point  out  the  close  analogy  between  suggestion 
and  instinct,  as  well  as  the  possible  application  of 
normal  and  natural  suggestion  to  education,  and  of 
artificial  suggestion  to  therapeutics,  as  a  corrective 
of  abnormal  instincts,  or  as  a  stimulant  of  normal 
instincts  which  are  too  weak.  Every  suggestion  is  in 
fact  a  nascent  instinct^  created  by  the  hypnotiser,  just 
as  the  modern  chemist  produces  organic  substances- 
by  synthesis.  And  as  every  instinct  is  the  germ  of 
a  sense  of  necessity,  and  sometimes  even  of  obligation, 
it  follows  that  every  suggestion  is  an  impulse  which 
is  beginning  to  impose  itself  on  the  mind — an  element- 
ary purpose  which  is  in  the  act  of  incorporating  itself 
with  the  personality.  This  purpose,  in  most  cases, 
believes  itself  free  and  autonomous,  and  before  long 
would  dominate  the  being  with  all  the  characters 
of  the  most  energetic  and  conscious  volition,  if  it 
were  not  resisted  by  other  pre-established  and  active 
tendencies. 

When    a   permanent    artificial    instinct   is  created 
in    this    way,    it   is    probable    that    a   mystical  and 


6  EDUCATION  AND  HEREDITY. 

quasi-religious  sentiment  would  soon  attach  itself  to 
that  instinct.  Suggestion  under  certain  conditions  is 
physical  restraint;  under  more  complex  conditions  we 
may  almost  enforce  moral  obligation.  On  the  whole, 
every  moral  or  natural  instinct,  as  Cuvier  remarks,  is 
derived  from  a  kind  of  somnambulism,  because  it 
gives  us  a  command,  the  reason  of  which  is  unknown 
to  ourselves  :  we  hear  the  "  voice  of  conscience,"  and 
localise  this  voice  within  us,  although  its  origin  is  far 
more  remote,  and  although  it  is  a  distant  echo  trans- 
mitted from  generation  to  generation.  Our  instinctive 
conscience  is  a  kind  of  hereditary  suggestion. 

M.  Delboeuf  suggested  to  his  servant  M.  the  idea 
of  embracing  a  guest,  a  young  man,  M.  A.  She 
went  up  to  him,  hesitated,  retreated,  blushed  vividly, 
and  hid  her  face  in  her  hands.  Next  day  she  confided 
to  Madame  Delbceuf  that  she  had  felt  an  extraordinary 
longing  to  embrace  M.  A.;  and  further,  this  longing 
had  not  yet  disappeared  ;  on  the  third  day  it  was 
still  felt.  Eight  days  after,  M.  Delboeuf  repeated  the 
order  already  given,  and  this  time,  in  the  evening,  his 
command  is  obeyed.  M.  Delboeuf,  who  has  taught 
his  subjects  to  remember  their  acts  under  the  influence 
of  suggestion,  asked  the  girl  what  she  had  felt  the 
night  before  when  she  went  up  to  embrace  M.  A. 
"I  was  thinking  of  nothing  in  particular,"  she  said; 
*'  but  when  I  opened  the  door,  the  idea  suddenly  came 
into  my  head  to  embrace  M.  A.  ;  I  felt  as  if  /  was 
absolutely  obliged  to  do  it,  and  I  embraced  him."^  "At 
5.15  P.M.  on  the  Sth  April,"  proceeds  M.  Delboeuf,  "I 
suggest  to  M.  that  at  the  stroke  of  5.30  she  will  go  up 
and  console  a  wooden  statue  of  a  weeping  monk  on 

^  Revue    Philosophique,    Feb.    1887,    p.    123.     The  italics   are   M. 
Delboeufs. 


NERVOUS   SUGGESTION   AND   ITS   EFFECTS.         7 

the  mantelpiece.  I  awake  her.  The  clock  strikes ; 
M.  rises  from  her  seat,  and  proceeds  to  comfort  the 
monk  with  many  signs  of  commiseration,  and  then 
sits  down  again.  .  .  .  Recollection  of  what  has 
happened  is  perfect. — '  How  do  you  make  up  your 
mind  to  do  so  unreasonable  a  thing  as  that  ? '  '/ 
feel  as  if  I  were  obliged  to  do  it!  " 

The  effects  of  suggestion  have  been  ably  analysed 
by  M.  Beaunis.  There  is  nothing  more  curious  from 
the  psychological  point  of  view  than  to  follow  on  the 
face  of  the  subject  the  unfolding  and  development  of 
the  idea  suggested  to  him.  It  may  be,  for  instance, 
in  the  middle  of  a  trivial  conversation  having  no  rele- 
vance to  the  suggestion.  Suddenly  the  hypnotiser, 
who  is  on  the  alert,  watching  the  subject  without 
appearing  to  do  so,  observes  at  a  given  moment  a  kind 
of  pause  in  the  flow  of  ideas,  an  inward  shock  which 
betrays  itself  by  a  scarcely  perceptible  sign,  a  look, 
a  gesture,  or  a  working  of  the  face ;  then  the  conver- 
sation is  resumed,  but  the  idea  returns  to  the  charge 
— still  faint  and  indefinite  ;  a  touch  of  astonishment 
appears  in  the  look,  we  feel  something  unexpected  is 
from  moment  to  moment  crossing  the  mind  like  a  ray 
of  light.  Soon  the  idea  gradually  grows  in  vigour ; 
takes  more  and  more  complete  possession  of  the 
intellect  ;  the  struggle  has  begun  ;  eyes,  gestures — 
everything  bespeaks,  everything  betrays  the  internal 
conflict ;  we  follow  the  fluctuations  of  the  thought ; 
the  subject  still  listens  to  the  conversation,  but 
vaguely  and  mechanically ;  he  is  elsewhere :  "  his 
whole  being  is  a  prey  to  the  fixed  idea  which  is 
becoming  more  and  more  deeply  rooted  in  his  brain. 
When  the  moment  has  come,  all  hesitation  disap- 
pears and  the  face   assumes  a  striking  character  of 


8  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

resolution."  This  inward  struggle,  terminated  by 
action,  is  not  without  analogy  to  the  other  struggles  in 
which  the  moral  instincts  engage.  And,  as  we  know, 
the  conflict  is  accompanied  by  consciousness  and 
reason,  for  the  hypnotised  subjects  always  find  some 
pretext  or  other  for  their  conduct.^  The  mechanism^ 
as  such,  is  therefore  comparable  in  the  two  cases,  and 
the  subjects  of  M.  Beaunis  seem  to  obey  the  same 
natural  laws  as  any  hero  in  Corneille  when  he  sacrifices 
himself  to  duty.  There  is  always  a  great  difference 
in  complexity  and  value  between  these  mechanically 
analogous  phenomena ;  in  fact,  the  formula  of  action 
we  call  duty  is  the  moral  and  self-conscious  resultant 
of  very  complex  co-ordinated  forces,  the  resultant  of 
higher  natural  tendencies  harmonised  by  that  formula  ; 
on  the  other  hand,  command,  as  conveyed  by  sugges- 
tion, is  the  sudden  and  fugitive  effect  of  a  single  and 
disturbing  tendency,  artificially  introduced  into  the 
mind.  It  follows  that  he  who  feels  the  inner  pressure 
of  suggestion  must  necessarily  be  conscious  that  he  is 
in  an  abnormal  state,  that  he  is  under  a  disturbing 
influence,  that  he  is,  in  fact,  dominated  by  an  isolated 
force,  and  not  borne  forward  by  the  totality  of  the 
best,  most  normal,  and  most  deeply  rooted  tendencies 
of  his  nature. 

Nevertheless,   it   is   probable    that   by   treating   a 

human  being  as  if  he  were  a  plant  removed   from 

its  normal  environment,  and  by  systematising  sugges- 

^>    tions,  we  might  eventually  create — as  I  have  shown 

in  my  Esquisse  (Tune  Morale  ^ — real  artificial  duties^ 

^  Vide  Richet,  La  Mimoire  et  la  Personnalite  dans  le  Somnambulisme, 
{Revue  Philosophique^  March  1882.) — Binet  and  Fere,  Animal  Magnet- 
isnty  pp.  290,  291. — Moll,  Hypnotism^  p.  152.     (Tr.) 

2  Pp.  45,  46.  —  Vide  Binet  and  Fere,  Animal  Magnetism^  pp.  1^4- 
142.     (Tr.) 


NERVOUS   SUGGESTION    AND   ITS   EFFECTS.  9 

each  complete  in  itself.  This  would  be  synthesis 
proving  the  accuracy  of  our  analysis.  We  might 
also,  by  an  inverse  experiment,  annul  more  or  less 
provisionally  this  or  that  natural  instinct.  A  som- 
nambulist may  be  made  to  lose  his  memory,^ — for 
example,  his  memory  for  names, — and  we  may  even, 
according  to  M.  Richet,  make  him  lose  his  whole 
memory  {Revue  Philosophique,  8th  October  1880). 
He  adds : — "  This  experiment  ought  only  to  be 
made  with  every  possible  precaution  ;  I  have  seen 
such  terror  and  disorder  supervene  in  the  intellect — 
the  disturbance  lasting  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour — 
that  I  would  not  voluntarily  renew  this  dangerous 
experiment."  If,  as  most  psychologists  do,  we  iden-^ 
tify  memory  with  habit  and  instinct,  we  must  suppose 
it  would  also  be  possible  to  annihilate  provisionally, 
or  at  least  to  weaken,  in  a  somnambulist,  any  instinct, 
even  though  it  be  among  the  most  fundamental  and 
most  binding  on  the  self-conscious  being, — for  example,  [ 
those  of  maternity,  modesty,  etc.  If  this  suppression 
of  the  instinct  left  no  traces  upon  waking,  we  would 
then  be  able  to  test  the  resistance  of  the  different 
instincts, — for  example,  of  the  moral  instincts, — and  to  j, 
ascertain  which  are  the  deepest  and  most  tenacious,  the 
altruistic*  or  egoistic  tendencies.  We  might,  in  that 
Hereditary  and  social  memory  called  morality,  distin- 
guish between  the  more  solid  parts,  and  the  weaker 
that  have  been  more  recently  superinduced. 

Of  course  the  experimenter,  if  an  honourable  man, 
will  never  use  the  power  of  suggestion  for  the  pur- 
pose of  demoralising  ;  he  will  use  it  for  "  moralising." 
On  this  point,  the  general  hints  I  had  formerly  given 

^  Moll,  Hypnotism^  pp.  123-139. — Binet  and  Fere,  pp.  321,  322. 
(Tr.) 


lO  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

have  been  already  successfully  followed  up  by  a  con- 
siderable number  of  experimenters.  It  has  now  been 
shown  that  we  can  counteract  a  mania  or  depraved 
habit  by  an  artificial  habit,  created  by  means  of  sug- 
gestion during  the  hypnotic  sleep.  Suggestion  will 
therefore  have  consequences  of  which  we  cannot  yet 
accurately  determine  the  scope  from  this  double 
point  of  view  of  mental  therapeutics,  and  even  of 
education  in  the  case  of  young  neuropaths.^  In 
the  first  place,  the  therapeutic  results  of  suggestion 
are  already  numerous.  Dr.  Voisin  asserts  that  he 
has  cured  by  suggestion  both  delirious  melancholia 
and  dipsomania.  In  all  cases  morphinomania  may 
be  cured  by  this  means,  and  the  cure  may  even  be 
suddenly  made,  without  provoking  the  attacks  of 
furious  madness  ordinarily  ensuing  on  the  prohibition 
of  morphia.  Alcoholism  and  the  craving  for  tobacco 
have  been  cured  in  the  same  way  by  MM.  Voisin  and 
Li^geois. 

Suggestion  may  also  in  certain  cases  become  a 
means  of  correction.  After  the  civil  disturbances  in 
Belgium,  M.  was  terribly  afraid  of  going  out  at  night- 
fall :  even  a  bell  at  that  time  would  make  him 
tremble.  M.  Delboeuf  hypnotises  and  reassures  him, 
and  orders  him  to  be  more  courageous  in  future ;  his 
alarm  disappeared  as  if  by  magic,  and  "  Ais  conduct 
was  modified  in  consequence."^  It  is  possible  there- 
fore to  influence  the  conduct.  Jeanne  Sch — ,  aged 
22,  a  thief  and  prostitute,  lazy  and  slovenly,  has  been 
transformed  by  M.  Voisin  of  the  Salpetri^re — thanks 
to  hypnotic  suggestion — into  a  submissive,  obedient, 

^  Moll,  Hypnotism^  pp.  331,  332. — Binet  and  Fere,  Animal  Mag 
netism,  pp.  359,  360.     (Tr.) 

2  Revue  Philosophique^  August  1886.     M.  Delboeuf. 


NERVOUS   SUGGESTION   AND   ITS   EFFECTS.        II 

honest,  clean,  and  hard-working  woman.  For  many- 
years  she  had  not  voluntarily  opened  a  book  ;  now, 
she  learns  by  heart  pages  of  a  moral  work  ;  all  her 
affections  are  awakened,  and  finally  she  has  been 
admitted  into  a  charitable  institution  as  a  servant, 
where  "her  conduct  is  irreproachable."  It  is  true 
this  is  simply  the  substitution  of  a  pleasant  for  an 
unpleasant  neurosis.  Numerous  cases  of  moral  cure 
of  the  same  kind  have  been  effected  at  the  Salpetriere. 
Even  in  his  private  practice  M.  Voisin  claims  to  have 
transformed,  by  hypnotic  suggestion,  a  woman  whose 
character  was  unbearable,  and  to  have  made  her 
gentle  and  affectionate  to  her  husband,  and  hence- 
forth free  from  exhibitions  of  temper.  A  metamor- 
phosis indeed  !  In  the  same  way,  Dr.  Li^bault,  of 
Nancy,  succeeded,  by  means  of  a  single  suggestion,  in 
making  a  persistently  idle  boy  diligent  for  a  period 

""oTsix  weeks.  This  is  a  beginning.  It  may,  however, 
be  asked  whether  it  is  not  better  to  leave  a  boy  in 

idleness  than  to  make  him  a  neuropath.  M.  Delboeuf 
has  recently  proposed  the  use  of  suggestion  for  young 
criminals  in  reformatories  and  houses  of  correction. 
Already  several  doctors  have  applied  for  permission 
to  make  experiments.  While  making  every  allow- 
ance for  professional  enthusiasm,  the  truth  remains 
that  suggestion  has  a  considerable  influence,  and,  as 
we  shall  see,  the  psychologist  may  draw  important 
deductions  from  this  fact 


12  EDUCATION    AND   HEREDITY. 


1 1.  Psychological  Suggestion,  Moral  and  Social, 

Physiological  and  neuropathic  suggestion  is  nothing 
but  the  exaggeration  of  facts  occurring  in  the  normal 
state.  Experiment  on  the  nervous  system  is  a  kind 
of  analysis  which  isolates  the  facts,  and  thus  throws 
them  into  relief  Hence  we  may  and  ought  to  admit 
a  psychological,  moral,  and  social  suggestion,  which 
IS  produced  even  in  the  healthiest  subjects,  without 
acquiring  that  artificial  exaggeration  to  which  nervous 
derangements  are  due.  This  normal  suggestion,  if 
well  organised  and  regulated,  may  evidently  either 
favour  or  repress  the  effects  of  heredity.  Let  us  study 
it  in  its  origin  and  different  forms. 

I  have  already  pointed  out  that  we  may  now  con- 
sider it  as  proved,  that  if  mental  suggestion  exists  to 
an  exceptional  degree  in  certain  subjects  peculiarly 
qualified  for  its  reception,  it  ought,  in  virtue  of  the 
analogy  of  constitution  in  the  human  race,  to  exist 
also  in  some  degree,  however  slight,  in  everybody: 
-  why  then  is  it  not  more  easily  detected  ?  Because : — 
1st,  it  is  very  weak  in  most  people,  only  producing  an 
effect  which  is  imperceptible  at  any  given  moment 
or  in  any  detached  instance,  though  it  may  well 
have  a  cumulative  influence  which  is  very  consider- 
able ;  2nd,  in  normal  subjects  mental  suggestions 
must  intersect  more  or  less,  coming  as  they  do  from 
very  different  individuals  coincidently.  In  our  normal 
state  we  are  not  under  the  influence  of  one  determinate 

^  By  physiological  suggestion  is  implied  mental  suggestion  effected 
by  physiological  means — e.g.^  hypnotism.  By  i^\xxQ\y  psychological  sug- 
gestion is  implied  mental  suggestion  by  means  of  a  psychological  char- 
acter— e.g.,  commands,  advice,  the  contagion  of  example,  sympathy, 
imitation,  etc.— M.  Fouill^e. 


PSYCHOLOGICAL   SUGGESTION.  1 3 

magnetiser^  the  only  person  in  the  world  who  moulds 
us  to  his  will.  But  it  does  not  follow  that  we  are  not 
accessible  to  an  infinite  number  of  small  suggestions, 
sometimes  inhibiting  each  other,  sometimes  accumu- 
lating so  as  to  produce  a  very  appreciable  resultant 
effect ;  these  are  suggestions  that  have  come,  not 
from  an  isolated  individual,  but  from  the  whole  of 
society,  from  the  whole  of  our  environment :  they 
are,  strictly  speaking,  social  suggestions. 

Nothing  happens,  then,  in  artificial  sleep  which 
cannot  be  produced  in  a  more  or  less  rudimentary 
degree  in  most  people  in  a  waking  state  ;  we  are  all 
susceptible  to  suggestions,  and  even  social  life  is  only, 
so  to  speak,  a  balanced  interchange  of  reciprocal  sug- 
gestions. But  the  possibility  of  personal  resistance 
to  suggestion  varies  considerably  with  the  individual. 
There  are  some  who  are  almost  incapable  of  resist- 
ance, whose  personality  in  a  measure  goes  for  nothing 
in  the  totality  of  motives  determining  action.  They 
are  stricken  with  a  kind  of  moral  paralysis.  That 
remarkable  observer,  Dostoieffsky,  mentions  among 
other  characteristics  of  the  criminal  class,  the  impossi- 
bility of  repressing  a  desire :  "  reason  has  no  power 
over  these  men,  except  in  so  far  as  their  volition  is  in 
abeyance.  When  they  desire  something,  obstacles 
are  non-existent  to  them.  .  .  .  They  are  born  with 
an  idea  which  unconsciously  sways  them  to  and  fro 
all  their  lives ;  in  this  fashion  they  wander  aimlessly 
till  they  have  met  with  some  object  violently  arousing 
desire  within  them,  and  then  they  lose  their  heads. 
When  Petrof  wants  something,  that  something  he 
must  have.  An  individual  like  Petrof  will  assassi- 
nate a  man  for  twenty-five  copecks,  simply  for  the 
price   of  half  a   pint ;    on   another   occasion  he  will 


14  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

look  With   contempt   on    hundreds   of  thousands   of 
roubles."^ 

Example  ought  of  itself  to  exert  a  force,  due  to 
the  unity  and  continuity  of  the  social  consciousness. 
The  mere  sight  of  rhythmic  motion  induces  the 
neuropath  to  imitate  it — a  phenomenon  of  psycho- 
motor, suggestion  of  which  MM.  Richet  and  F^r6 
have  given  instances.^  Hence  arise  spasmodic 
epidemics.  If  we  ask  the  neuropath  to  look  atten- 
tively at  the  motion  of  flexion  given  to  our  hand,  in 
a  few  minutes  he  declares  he  has  a  sensation  as  if  the 
same  movement  is  taking  place  in  his  own  hand, 
although  it  is  perfectly  motionless.  But  this  immo- 
bility does  not  continue,  for  his  hand  very  soon 
begins  to  carry  out  irresistibly  the  rhythmic  move- 
ments  of  flexion.      All  perception  is  more   or   less 

^  reducible  to  an  imitation,  to  the  creation  within  us  of 
a  state  corresponding  to  that  which  we  see  in  others  ; 
all  perception  is  a  kind  of  incipient  suggestion,  which 
in  certain  individuals,  not  being  neutralised  by  other 
suggestions,  completes  itself  in  action.  The  sugges- 
tive element  inherent  in  all  perception  is,  as  we  have 
seen,  stronger  in  proportion  as  the  perception  is  that 
of  an  action  or  of  a  state  bordering  on  action.^  In 
fact,  all  suggestion  becomes  irresistible  when  per- 
ception, instead  of  being  produced  in  the  midst  of 
the  complex  states  of  consciousness  which  limit  it, 
occupies  the  whole  consciousness,  and  at  a  given 
moment   constitutes   the   whole    inner  being.      This 

>    state  has  been  called  monoi'deism,  and  is  found  in 

^  Quoted  by  M.  Garofalo,  Revue  Philosophique,  March  1887,  p.  236. — 
Vide  Ellis,  The  Criminal  {^zMqx  Scott),  pp.  17,  18,  147,  213.     (Tr.) 
2  Binet  and  Y6ti,  Animal  Magnetism ,  pp.  281  et  seq.     (Tr.) 
^  Here  especially  is  manifested  what  has  been  termed  the  "idea 
force." 


PSYCHOLOGICAL   SUGGESTION.  IS 

somnambulists,  and  in  all  whose  mental  equilibrium  is 
made  more  or  less  unstable  by  a  kind  of  abstraction 
which  suppresses  in  the  mind  one  aspect  of  reality. 

The  neuropath  who  tends  to  mechanically  repro- 
duce a  muscular  movement  executed  in  his  presence, 
will  equally  tend  to  reproduce  a  state  of  sensibility 
or  volition  which  he  sees  in  another  individual,  and 
which  has  been  revealed  to  him  either  directly  by 
facial  expression,  or  indirectly  by  speech  and  the  tone 
of  the  voice. 

Thus  suggestion  is  the  transformation  by  which  a 
relatively  passive  organism  tends  to  bring  itself  into 
unison  with  a  relatively  active  organism  ;  the  latter 
dominates  the  former,  and  eventually  controls  its 
external  movements,  its  volitions,  and  its  inward 
beliefs.  Intercourse  with  respected  relatives,  a 
master,  or  any  superior  whatever,  must  produce 
suggestions  which  extend  through  a  child's  lifetime. 
Education  has  the  magic  and  "  charms  "  spoken  of  by 
Callicles  in  the  Gorgias,i  of  which  it  makes  use  to 
tame  the  young  lions  when  need  arises.  There  are 
in  man  "thoughts  by  imitation,"  which  are  trans- 
mitted from  individual  to  individual,  and  generation 
to  generation,  with  the  same  strength  as  real  instincts. 
I  know  a  child  of  thirteen,  who  had  read  in  Martin 
PaZy  one  of  Jules  Verne's  novels,  the  description  of  a 
captivating  heroine  who  had  a  mincing  gait,  and  from 

^  The  following  is  Professor  Jowett's  translation  of  the  passage 
referred  to: — "These  are  the  men  who  act  according  to  nature;  yes, 
by  Heaven,  and  according  to  the  laws  of  nature  :  not  perhaps  according 
to  that  artificial  law,  which  we  forge  and  impose  upon  our  fellows,  of 
whom  we  take  the  best  and  strongest  from  their  youth  upwards,  and 
tame  them  like  young  lions — charming  them  with  the  sound  of  the 
voice,  and  saying  to  them  that  with  equality  they  must  be  content,  and 
that  the  equal  is  the  honourable  and  the  just."     (Tr.) 


l6         EDUCATION  AND  HEREDITY. 

_  that  time  forward  the  child  endeavoured  to  take  very 
short  steps.  This  habit  is  now  so  inveterate  that  she 
will  in  all  probability  never  be  able  to  rid  herself  of  it. 
If  we  take  into  account  the  continuous  interconnec- 
tion of  every  movement  of  the  body,  we  shall  under- 
stand what  an  important  modification  this  artistic 
impression  has  introduced  into  this  child's  mode 
of  existence — little  steps,  gestures,  and  voice,  and 
perhaps  a  childish  expression  of  face. 

We  know  the  rapidity  with  which  crimes  are 
propagated  by  suggestion  in  the  very  form  under 
which  the  first  was  accomplished :  women  cut  to 
pieces,  strange  suicides,  the  nail  in  the  sentry-box 
from  which  seven  soldiers  in  succession  hanged 
themselves,  etc.^  Hence  arises  the  danger  of  the 
press.  The  editor  of  the  Morning  Herald  has 
declared  that  he  will  never  insert  in  his  paper  reports 
of  murders,  suicides,  or  forms  of  madness,  because 
they  may  become  contagious ;  and  he  has  kept  his 
word.  The  authority  possessed  by  certain  persons  is 
also  explained  by  the  contagion  of  a  state  of  con- 
sciousness, and  this  state  is  nothing  but  the  state  of 
belief  and  faith,  the  intensity  of  assurance.  Obedi- 
^  ence  is  the  effect  of  successful  suggestion,  and  the 
power  of  suggestion  is  reducible  to  the  power  of 
assertion.  Accordingly,  the  temperaments  most 
capable  of  acquiring  authority  over  men  are  those 
which  assert  most  strongly,  or  which  at  least  appear  to 
assert  most  strongly,  by  gesture  and  tone.  Those  in 
whom  we  believe  most,  and  who  are  most  obeyed,  are 
those  who  have  or  seem  to  have  the  strongest  belief 

The  power   of  affirmation   being  reducible  to  an 
energy  of  the  will,  the  words  that  is  may  be  reduced 

^  Vide  Ellis,  The  Criminal,  p.  177.— Tuke,  op,  cit,,  p.  66.     (Tr.) 


PSYCHOLOGICAL   SUGGESTION.  1/ 

to : — /  wish  this  to  be  so,  I  act  as  if  this  were  so,  I 
adapt  myself  entirely  to  this  supposed  phenomenon. 
Hence  the  following  law :  every  strong  will  tends 
to  create  a  will  in  the  same  direction  in  other 
individuals ;  every  adaptation  of  the  consciousness 
to  a  supposed  phenomenon — for  example,  a  future 
event  or  distant  ideal — tends  to  propagate  itself 
in  other  consciousnesses,  and  the  social  conditions 
favourable  to  the  appearance  of  the  phenomenon 
tend  of  themselves  to  enter  into  combination,  owing 
solely  to  the  fact  that  their  combination  has  already 
been  presented  to  an  individual  consciousness. 

What  I  think  and  see  with  sufficient  energy,  I 
make  everybody  else  think  and  see ;  and  if  all  see  it, 
it  exists,  at  least  in  so  far  as  consciousness  and 
collective  belief  may  be  regarded  as  equivalent  to  a 
realisation. 

The  second  law  is,  that  the  contagious  influence  of 
a  belief,  and  consequently  of  a  volition,  is  in  direct 
ratio  to  its  force  of  inward  tension,  and,  so  to  speak, 
of  its  first  inward  realisation.  The  more  we  ourselves 
believe  and  act,  the  more  do  we  act  on  others  and 
'  make  them  believe.  Energetic  volition  is  immedi- 
ately transformed  into  a  kind  of  command  ;  authority 
is  the  centre  from  which  action  is  radiated.  Char- 
latans and  orators  are  generally  familiar  with  the 
contagious  power  of  affirmation;  the  voice  of  assur- 
ance and  accent  of  faith  in  which  they  assert  what 
they  wish  to  convince  their  audience  of  must  be 
heard  ;  tone  of  voice  is  their  first  and  sometimes  the 
most  solid  of  their  arguments. 

In  hypnotisable  subjects ^ — we  must  not  forget  that 
they  are  about  30  per  cent,  of  normal  individuals — 

^  Moll,  Hypnotism^  pp.  38-41.     (Tr.) 

2 


1§  feDUCATiON    AND   HEREDttV. 

a  simple  assertion  in  the  waking  state,  made  authori- 
tatively by  a  person  in  whom  they  have  confidence, 
is  enough  to  produce  illusions  or  true  hallucinations. 
On  the  simple  assertion  of  M.  Bernheim,  one  of  his 
subjects,  completely  awake,  gives  information  to  a 
commissary  of  police  of  a  scuffle  between  workmen 
which  he  thinks  he  has  seen  in  a  chapel ;  moreover,  he 
?  declares  himself  ready  to  give  sworn  evidence  before 
the  magistrate.  Thus  we  see  how  suggested  hallu- 
cinations become  the  basis  of  a  line  of  conduct,  and 
may  give  rise  to  the  most  serious  social  consequences. 
There  is  a  natural  power  and  authority  in  the  fone 
of  voice,  a  power  which  is  well  exhibited  by 
I  observation  of  hypnotisable  subjects,  whom  children 
^^^J!  resemble  in  so  many  ways.  M.  Delboeuf,  addressing 
a  hypnotisable  but  unhypnotised  subject,  can,  he 
tells  us,  either  make  her  see  his  beard,  which  is  really 
white,  as  if  it  were  black,  or  assent  in  part :  "  Not 
quite  black,  sir;  there  are  many  white  hairs  in  it,"  or 
can  persuade  her  of  nothing  at  all.  There  is  an 
infinite  number  of  gradations  in  the  tone  of  the  voice  ; 
and  hypnotisable  subjects,  being  peculiarly  sensitive, 
interpret  them  more  rapidly  than  others  ;  but  their 
actions  are  only  the  translation  and  exaggeration  of 
impressions  felt  by  every  one. 

Suggestion  by  imitation  and  nervous  sympathy 
increases  in  power  when  gesture  and  even  the  action 
itself  are  added  to  the  tone  of  voice.  MM.  Binet  and 
Fere  remark  that  if  we  say  to  a  subject,  "  Grip  that 
with  all  your  might,"  a  dynamometric  contraction  of 
much  less  intensity  is  produced  than  when  we  grip 
the  object  ourselves,  and  say,  "  Do  as  I  do."^ 

The  commands  of  God  are  real  suggestions  made 

"'■  Animal  Magnetism^  pp.  120-134,  295.     (Tr.) 


PSYCHOLOGICAL  SUGGESTION.  I9 

in  the  ears  of  a  whole  race — suggestions  the  more 
powerful  because  they  were  based  on  the  authority  of 
a  superhuman  being,  and  because  the  sound  of  the 
words  seemed  to  be  of  heavenly  origin.  Every 
strong  impulse  in  a  conscious  being  becomes  a  kind 
of  inward  voice  saying :  "  Thou  shalt !  thou  shalt 
not !  advance  !  retreat ! "  It  therefore  assumes  the 
form  of  a  precise  suggestion,  which  owes  its  authority 
to  its  very  precision,  and  if  energetic  enough  becomes 
a  command  :  "  Thou  shalt  do  this  !  thou  shalt  not  do 
that!" 

Words  are,  in  man,  the  natural  and  necessary  pro- 
duct of  intellectual  evolution,  when  consciousness  is 
characterised  by  a  certain  distinctness ;  they  are  a 
phase  in  the  development  of  the  idea  and  the  emo- 
tion, from  which  they  are  inseparable.  Accordingly 
every  word  (especially  in  the  concrete  and  limited 
tongues  of  primitive  races)  immediately  and  vigor- 
ously awakens  the  idea  or  the  corresponding  emotion. 
On  the  other  hand,  since  it  is  a  psychological  law 
that  every  image  vividly  engrossing  the  consciousness 
tends  to  issue  in  action,  a  word  is  an  action  in  its 
inception.  All  the  words  of  a  language,  especially 
of  a  primitive  race,  are  possibilities  competing  with 
each  other  for  realisation — suggestions  neutralising 
each  other.  When  a  person,  armed  in  our  opinion 
with  authority  of  any  kind,  utters  a  word  to  us,  or 
formulates  a  precept,  he  completes  and  brings  into 
overt  action  a  latent  suggestion  already  a  part  of  our- 
selves— gives  a  new  force  to  a  pre-existing  impulse. 
The  internal  impulse  of  power  seeking  to  manifest 
itself,  and  the  external  impulse  of  speech,  are  two  forces 
of  the  same  nature,  which  can  only  be  conjoined  in 
moral  suggestion,  or  command,  whether  hypnotic  or 


20         EDUCATION  AND  HEREDITY. 

not.  Further,  a  word  is  effective  only  inasmuch  as  it 
.is  the  symbol  of  that  act  of  the  will  or  reaction  of  the 
sensibility  which  it  expresses  and  commands.  In 
itself  it  is  nothing.  A  hypnotised  subject  to  whom  it 
has  been  suggested  that  he  should  steal  a  spoon,  puts 
out  his  hand  to  a  watch  he  sees  on  the  table  ;  it  was 
the  moral  idea  of  the  theft,  rather  than  the  object  of 
the  theft,  that  was  borne  in  upon  his  mind.  Another,  to 
whom  Dr.  Bernheim  had  suggested  that  upon  waking 
he  would  smell  eau  de  cologne  very  strongly,  thought 
that  he  smelled  a  very  strong  odour,  but  that  it  was 
burnt  vinegar.  Words  mean  nothing  to  the  hypnotised 
subject  except  as  definitions  of  the  moral  or  sensory 
character  of  actions  or  reactions  ;  it  is  this  character 
that  is  of  importance  to  him,  and  the  external  object 
of  these  actions  or  reactions  is  of  but  slight  import- 
ance. Belief,  as  I  have  said,  plays  a  leading  part  in  all 
suggestion ;  suggestions  affecting  sensibility,  and  par- 
ticularly visual  imagery,  enable  us  to  measure  the  force 
of  the  belief  by  the  intensity  of  the  image  produced. 
The  mere  fact  that  we  cannot  believe  a  certain  thing 
makes  our  representation  of  it  fainter.  Doubt  rela- 
tive to  a  suggested  image  prevents  the  production  of 
complete  hallucination.  M.  Binet  said  one  day  to  a 
sleeping  subject :  "  Look  at  that  dog  sitting  on  the 
carpet."  The  subject  immediately  saw  the  dog;  only 
as  it  seemed  to  him  very  strange  that  the  dog  should 
have  so  suddenly  entered  the  laboratory,  the  image 
failed  to  become  objectified.  "You  want  to  *  halluci- 
nate '  me."  "  Don't  you  see  the  dog  then  ?  "  "  Yes,  I 
see  it  in  my  imagination,  but  I  know  perfectly  well  it 
is  not  on  the  carpet."  Another  patient  being  allowed 
to  discuss  a  suggestion  of  Dr.  Binet's,  the  latter  im- 
posed silence  on  him,  and  the  subject  immediately 


PSYCHOLOGICAL   SUGGESTION.  21 

answered  :  "  I  know  why  you  do  not  wish  me  to  dis- 
cuss the  suggestion,  because  it  would  weaken  it."  A 
doubtful  turn  of  expression — "  If  you  do  such  and 
such  a  thing" — either  produces  a  very  faint  sug- 
gestion or  none  at  all. 

The  if  is  introduced  into  the  mind  of  the  subject, 
and  creates  a  meeting  point  of  divergent  paths,  instead 
of  the  single  direction  in  which  the  will  was  to  be  im- 
pelled. The  power  possessed  by  the  subject  of  weaken- 
ing the  suggested  image  by  doubt  explains  why  auto- 
suggestion succeeds  when  simple  suggestion  fails.  We 
always  believe  more  strongly  what  we  assert  to  our- 
selves than  what  others  assert  to  us.  "  If  the  subject 
himself,"  says  M.  Binet,  "  by  dint  of  reasoning  sug- 
gests to  himself  an  idea,  he  will  adopt  it  without 
resistance,  it  will  be  more  intense,  and  therefore  more 
efficacious."  Again,  let  me  quote  a  remarkable  experi- 
ment by  M.  Binet,  We  know  that  in  catalepsy  an 
expressive  attitude  given  to  the  limbs  is  immediately 
reflected  on  the  face  :  this  is  muscular  suggestion.  M. 
Binet  asked  himself  if  a  moral  suggestion  given  by 
way  of  preliminary  could  not  modify  and  even  sus- 
pend muscular  suggestion  in  catalepsy.  G.  being 
in  the  somnambulist  state,  he  warns  her  that  she  is 
to  be  thrown  into  the  cataleptic  state,  and  that  in  this 
state  her  face  will  remain  impassive  whatever  move- 
ments are  communicated  to  her  hands.  The  patient 
instead  of  submitting  to  the  injunction,  discusses  it, 
and  observes  that  she  cannot  obey  because  she  loses 
consciousness  during  catalepsy.  In  spite  of  these  very 
well  reasoned  misgivings  of  the  subject,  M.  Binet  pro- 
ceeds with  the  experiment,  but  the  muscular  sugges- 
tions are  carried  out  as  usual  ;  the  failure  is  complete. 
M.  Binet  then  puts  her  again  into  the  somnambulist 


22         EDUCATION  AND  HEREDITY. 

state,  and  she  spontaneously  inquires  if  the  sugges- 
tion has  succeeded.  M.  Binet  answers  in  a  perfectly 
natural  tone  that  it  has  been  quite  successful,  and 
the  patient  being  astonished  but  convinced,  he  imme- 
diately throws  her  into  catalepsy  again,  and  repeats 
the  experiment.  This  time  it  is  completely  successful; 
the  preliminary  mental  suggestion  entirely  suspends 
the  muscular  suggestions  ;  when  her  hands  are  put  to 
her  mouth  in  the  position  of  sending  a  kiss,  the  line  of 
the  mouth  remains  motionless  ;  on  closing  the  fists 
before  her  eyes,  no  sign  of  anger  appears.  In  order  to 
gradually  awaken  muscular  suggestion,  the  hand  had 
to  be  left  for  five  minutes  in  the  same  position  (of 
throwing  a  kiss)  ;  at  the  end  of  that  time,  M.  Binet 
succeeded  in  bringing  a  smile  to  the  mouth  by  giving 
the  hand  a  waving  motion.^ 

Just  as  a  positive  suggestion — i.e.,  the  idea  that  one 
will  do  or  see  a  thing — is  tantamount  to  a  contagious 
assertion,  in  the  same  way  a  negative  suggestion — 
the  idea  that  we  shall  not  see  this  or  that  person 
present,  or  that  we  shall  not  perform  this  or  that 
habitual  act — reduces  to  a  contagious  negation,  which 
is  an  assertion  of  another  kind.  As  M.  Binet 
remarks,  scepticism  is  suggested  instead  of  faith. 
We  can  thus  weaken  and  even  entirely  destroy 
real  perceptions.^  When  we  say  to  a  subject :  "  You 
cannot  move  your  arm,"  we  paralyse  the  motor  cur- 
rent that  sets  the  arm  in  motion.  Hence  I  think  we 
can  establish  the  following  law  : — Every  manifesta- 
tion of  muscular  or  sensorial  activity  does  not  take 
effect  unless  accompanied  by  a  certain  belief  in  one's 
self,  or  by  the  expectation  of  a  determinate  result,  on 
the  occurrence  of  certain  antecedent  conditions.     The 

^  Moll,  pp.  171  et  seq.  ^  Moll,  vide  Index,  "Paralyses." 


SUGGESTION  A  MEANS  OF  MORAL  EDUCATION.      23 

consciousness  of  action  is  thus  partly  reduced  to  the 
belief  that  one  is  acting,  and  if  this  belief  is  destroyed, 
the  consciousness  itself  becomes  disorganised.  All 
conscious  life  is  based  on  a  certain  self-confidence, 
which  may  be  identified  with  self-habit ;  and  this 
self-habit,  this  vague  belief  in  the  conformity  of 
what  one  has  been,  with  what  one  is,  and  will  be, 
may  be  very  easily  disturbed,  just  as  reflex  acts 
may  be  disturbed  by  a  doubt  arising  from  conscious 
reflection. 

III.  Suggestion  as  a  Means  of  Moral  Education^  and 
as  an  Influence  modifying  Heredity, 

The  state  of  the  child  at  the  moment  of  its  entrance 
into  the  world  is  more  or  less  comparable  to  that  of  a  ^ 
hypnotised  subject.  There  is  the  same  absence  of 
ideas  or  "a'fdeism,"  the  same  domination  of  a  single 
idea  or  passive  "  monoideism.'*  Further,  all  children 
are  not  only  hypnotisable,  but  readily  hypnotisable. 
In  fact,  they  are  peculiarly  open  to  suggestion  and/ 
auto-suggestion.^ 

Everything  the  child  perceives  will  therefore  be  a 

■^  M.  Motet  made  an  interesting  communication  to  the  Academie  de 
Medecine^  12th  April  1887,  on  the  false  evidence  given  by  children 
in  courts  of  law.  Drawing  attention  to  the  affecting  character  of 
the  account  given  by  a  child  of  the  details  of  a  crime,  the  author 
has  collected  a  number  of  facts  which  clearly  characterise  the  mental 
state  of  a  child-plaintiff,  and  which  show  the  psychic  mechanism  of 
their  false  evidence.  In  many  of  these  cases  the  gravest  accusations 
have  no  other  motive  than  the  necessity  for  explaining  some  trivial 
prank.  In  one  case,  the  child  not  knowing  what  answer  to  make  to  its 
mother,  the  latter,  by  her  questions,  suggests  the  whole  story  of  an 
indecent  assault,  which  the  child  retains  and  repeats  before  the  magis- 
trate. In  another,  a  child  plays  truant  from  school  and  falls  into  the 
water,  and  under  the  influence  of  this  moral  shock,  which  awakens  in 
him  a  series  of  dreams  and  phantasms  of  previous  fear,  he  organises  a 


24  EDUCATION    AND   HEREDITY. 

suggestion  ;  this  suggestion  will  give  rise  to  a  habit 
which  may  sometimes  be  prolonged  through  its  life- 
time, just  as  impressions  of  fright  instilled  in  children 
by  nurses  are,  as  we  know,  perpetuated.  Suggestion, 
as  I  have  said  before,  is  the  introduction  within  us  of 
a  practical  belief  which  is  spontaneously  realised  ;  the 
moral  art  of  suggestion  may  therefore  be  defined 
as  the  art  of  modifying  an  individual  by  persuading 
him  that  he  is  or  may  be  other  than  he  is.  This  art  is 
one  of  the  most  important  appliances  in  education. 
All  education,  indeed,  should  be  directed  to  this  end, 
to  convince  the  child  that  he  is  capable  of  good  and 
incapable  of  evily  in  order  to  render  him  actually  so ; 
to  persuade  him  that  he  has  a  strong  will,  in  order  to 
give  him  strength  of  will ;  to  make  him  believe  he  is 
morally  free  and  master  of  himself,  in  order  that  "the 

menial  drama,  and  accuses  an  individual  of  having  thrown  him  into  the 
water.  In  another  case,  hypnagogic  hallucinations  become  the  basis  of 
an  accusation  of  indecent  assault.  In  fact,  leading  questions  implying 
guilt,  made  in  an  energetic  tone  of  voice,  appear  enough  under  other 
circumstances  to  determine  in  the  child  a  process  of  unconscious  assimi- 
lation, in  virtue  of  which  he  proceeds  to  declare  himself  guilty  of  a 
crime  he  has  not  committed,  or  to  testify  to  what  he  has  never  seen.  In 
all  these  cases  we  recognise  the  influence  of  suggestion  and  auto-sugges- 
tion, as  having  an  exaggerated  effect  upon  the  child's  brain,  which  is 
still  plastic  and  in  process  of  organisation.  Whereas  in  the  adult  it  is  the 
contradictory  details  and  different  versions  which  prove  that  there  is 
wilful  perjury,  so  that  the  magistrates  wait  in  their  examination  for  the 
moment  when  the  witness  will  contradict  himself,  it  is  otherwise  with 
the  child  ;  the  automatic  invariability  of  its  deposition  ought  to  be  a 
reason  for  suspecting  its  veracity.  **  When  a  medical  expert,"  con- 
cludes M.  Motet,  **  after  several  visits,  finds  the  same  words  and  the 
same  details,  when  he  has  only  to  siart  the  train  of  ideas  to  hear 
unfolded  in  unchanging  sequence  the  most  important  statements, 
we  may  be  sure  the  child  is  not  telling  the  truth,  and  that  it  is 
unconsciously  substituting  acquired  data  for  the  true  account  of  events 
in  which  it  may  have  taken  part." — Vide  also  Moll,  pp.  345  et  seq. 
(Tr.) 


SUGGESTION  A  MEANS  OF  MORAL  EDUCATION.      2$ 

idea  of  moral  liberty"  may  tend  to  progressively 
realise  itself.  Moral  slavery,  "  aboulia,"  as  it  is  called, 
reduces  either  to  a  partial  unconsciousness  an  irreso- 
lution which  makes  the  agent  abandon  himself  at 
every  turn  to  opposed  impulses  without  struggle  or 
comparison,  or  to  the  belief  that  he  will  have  no 
strength  to  resist,  that  he  is  powerless,  or,  in  other 
words,  that  his  consciousness  has  no  power  to  act  on 
the  ideas  and  tendencies  that  cross  it.  To  deny  the 
repressive  power  of  his  own  consciousness  is  to 
abandon  himself  with  a  light  heart  to  the  haphazard 
play  of  impulse. 

Further,  the  hypnotiser  who  wishes  to  produce  an 
act  with  certainty  takes  care  to  suggest,  along  with 
the  idea  of  action,  the  idea  that  the  subject  cannot  but 
do  as  he  is  told  ;  he  creates  simultaneously  a  tendency 
to  act,  and  the  idea  that  the  tendency  is  irresistible  ; 
he  excites  the  brain  with  regard  to  one  point,  while 
he  paralyses  it  with  regard  to  every  other  ;  he  isolates 
an  impulse  from  the  total  mental  system  which  might 
otherwise  resist  it,  and  makes  —  so  to  speak  —  a 
void  around  it.  Thus  he  creates  an  entirely  artificial 
and  morbid  state  similar  to  the  states  of  aboulia 
observed  in  numerous  patients.  M.  Bernheim,  for 
instance,  had  suggested  to  S.  the  idea  of  a  theft, 
without  the  idea  that  he  could  not  resist  the 
suggestion.  On  his  awaking,  S.  sees  a  watch,  puts 
out  his  hand  to  it,  and  then  stops  short.  "  No ! " 
says  he,  "  it  would  be  thieving."  Another  day  Dr. 
Bernheim  sends  him  to  sleep  again,  and  says  :  "  You 
will  put  this  spoon  in  your  pocket ;  you  will  be 
unable  to  do  otherwise^  When  S.  awakes  he  sees  the 
spoon,  still  hesitates  a  moment  (the  persuasion  of 
powerlessness   not  being   quite  strong  enough),  and 


26         EDUCATION  AND  HEREDITY. 

cries  :  "  Well,  so  much  the  worse  !  "  and  puts  the  spoon 
in  his  pocket 

It  is  often  enough  to  tell  children  and  young  people, 
or  otherwise  lead  them  to  believe,  that  we  assume 
this  or  that  good  quality  in  them,  to  induce  them  to 
exert  themselves  to  justify  the  opinion.  To  assume 
in  them  depraved  sentiments,  to  reproach  them 
undeservedly,  to  treat  them  badly,  is  to  produce  the 
contrary  result.  It  has  been  justly  said  that  the  art 
of  managing  the  young  consists  before  anything  else 
in  assuming  them  to  be  as  good  as  they  wish  them- 
selves to  be.  If  an  hypnotic  subject  is  persuaded  he 
is  a  pig,  he  straightway  wallows  and  grunts  like  a  pig. 
The  same  happens  in  the  case  of  those  who  theoreti- 
cally think  themselves  of  no  more  worth  than  a 
pig  ;  their  practice  must  necessarily  offer  points  of 
correspondence  with  their  theory.  This  is  an  auto- 
suggestion. 

The  same  principles  find  their  application  in  the 
art  of  governing  men.  Numerous  facts  from  prison- 
life  show  that  to  treat  a  half-criminal  as  a  great 
criminal  is  to  urge  to  crime.  To  raise  a  man  in  the 
esteem  of  the  public  and  himself  is  to  raise  him  in 
reality.  A  clasp  of  the  hand  offered  by  an  enthusi- 
astic young  lawyer  to  a  thief  who  had  been  ten  times 
convicted  was  enough  to  produce  a  moral  impression 
which  is  lasting  to  the  present  moment.  A  prisoner, 
seeing  one  of  his  comrades  rushing  forward  to  strike 
the  governor  of  the  prison,  stops  him  by  an  almost 
instinctive  movement  ;  and  this  action  will  be  enough 
to  save  him  from  himself,  to  rescue  him  from  his 
antecedents  and  moral  environment.  Henceforth  his 
conduct  will  be  irreproachable.^ 

^  Ellis,  The  Criminal^  pp.  232-282.     (Tr.) 


SUGGESTION  A  MEANS  OF  MORAL  EDUCATION.      2/ 

Testimony  of  esteem  is  one  of  the  most  powerful 
forms  of  suggestion.^ 

On  the  other  hand,  to  believe  in  the  wickedness  of 
any  one  is  as  a  rule  to  make  him  more  wicked  than 
he  is.  In  education,  therefore,  we  must  always  obey 
the  rule  just  laid  down  :  presuppose  the  existence  of 
goodness  and  goodwill.  Every  statement  made  aloud 
upon  the  mental  state  of  a  child  immediately  plays 
the  rdle  of  a  suggestion  :  "  This  child  is  naughty — 
he  is  idle — he  will  not  do  this  or  that."  How 
many  vices  are  thus  developed,  not  by  hereditary 
fatality,  but  by  ill-advised  education  !  ^  For  the  same 
reason  when  a  child  has  misconducted  itself,  we  must 
not  in  blaming  it  interpret  the  action  in  its  worst 
sense.  The  child  is  in  general  too  unconscious  to 
have  had  a  completely  perverse  intention  ;  to  ascribe 
to  it  deliberation,  fixed  purpose,  and  manly  resolution 

^  Are  the  numerous  cases  of  second  offences,  ascertained  to  have 
taken  place  after  the  imprisonment  of  delinquents,  due  to  the  incura- 
bility of  crime,  or  are  they  not  rather  due  to  the  deplorable  organisation 
of  our  prisons,  where  everything  suggests  and  teaches  crime?  The 
variability  of  second  offences  with  the  country,  and  with  prison  organ- 
isation, would  seem  to  prove  the  latter  case ;  they  are  70  per  cent,  in 
Belgium  and  40  per  cent,  in  France.  The  system  of  separate  cells  has 
brought  them  down  to  10  per  cent.  ;  in  fact,  at  Zwickau,  by  "the 
graduation  of  punishment  and  its  adaptation  to  the  individual,"  the 
proportion  has  been  reduced  to  2.68  per  cent.  We  must  draw  the 
conclusion  that,  as  far  as  we  know  at  present,  it  is  barely  certain  that 
as  many  as  20  per  cent,  of  our  criminals  are  predestined  to  crime  by 
other  causes  than  their  environment,  and  the  suggestions  they  receive 
from  it.  And  if,  even  in  this  20  per  cent.,  we  admit  the  overmastering 
influence  of  atavism,  we  must  know  how  far  this  action  has  been 
unaided  in  their  early  years  by  the  suggestions  of  their  first  education, 
which  are  the  most  powerful  of  all. 

^  Receipt  for  stopping  crying:  Pour  cold  water  on  the  face.  "Come, 
my  dear,  wash  those  red  eyes  of  yours ;  oh,  how  much  good  that  does 
you  !  "  This  is  suggestion  of  a  comforting  idea,  instead  of  a  depressing 
idea. 


28  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

in  wrong  doing,  is  to  deceive  ourselves  and  develop 
those  habits  in  it ;  to  assume  the  existence  of  vice  is 
often  to  produce  it.  We  must  therefore  say  to  the 
child  :  "  You  did  not  really  wish  to  do  that ;  but  see 
how  others  would  interpret  your  action  if  they  did  not 
know  you." 

When  a  man,  followed  by  a  vaguely  threatening 
crowd,  musters  up  courage  to  face  it,  and  suddenly 
cries,  "  You  want  to  hang  me,  do  you  ?  "  there  is  every 
chance  that  they  will  immediately  apply  the  formula 
he  has  found  for  them.  This  is  the  case  with  a 
multitude  of  more  or  less  bad  instincts,  which  are 
necessarily  awakened  in  the  child's  heart  at  certain 
moments  of  its  existence  ;  we  must  not  give  the 
>  child  the  formula  of  its  instincts,  or  by  so  doing  we 
strengthen  them  and  urge  them  to  pass  into  action. 
Sometimes,  indeed,  we  create  them.  Hence  this  one 
important  rule  I  lay  down  for  educators  :  It  is  as  use- 
ful to  make  good  tendencies  self-conscious,  as  it  is 
dangerous  to  make  the  bad  tendencies  self-conscious, 
when  as  yet  they  are  not  so. 

A  sentiment  is  a  very  complex  thing — so  complex 
that  parents  must  not  fancy  they  can  raise  it  by  a 
reproach.  To  assert,  for  instance,  that  a  child  is  in- 
different to  its  parents,  is  not  the  way  to  make  it 
affectionate  ;  on  the  contrary,  it  is  much  to  be  feared 
that  assertion  of  indifference  only  produces  it,  or  at 
any  rate  increases  it,  by  persuading  the  child  of  its 
existence.  A  sentiment  must  be  imputed  in  far 
more  delicate  terms  than  an  act.  We  may  reproach 
a  child  for  having  done  or  not  done  this  or  that ; 
but  in  my  opinion  it  should  be  a  rule  in  educa- 
tion to  suggest  rather  than  reproach  in  matters  of 
sentiment. 


SUGGESTION  A  MEANS  OF  MORAL  EDUCATION.      29 

Suggestion  may  weaken  or  momentarily  increase 
intelligence ;  we  may  suggest  to  a  person  that  he  is 
a  fool,  that  he  is  incapable  of  understanding  this 
or  that,  that  he  will  be  unable  to  do  that  or  the  other ; 
thereby  we  develop  a  proportionate  lack  of  intelligence 
and  want  of  power.  The  educator,  on  the  contrary, 
should  follow  this  rule  :  Persuade  the  child  that  he 
will  be  able  to  understand dind  to  do  a  thing.  In  Pascal's 
words : — "  Man  is  so  made  that  by  dint  of  frequent 
asserting  that  he  is  a  fool,  we  make  him  believe  it ; 
and  by  dint  of  telling  himself  this,  he  makes  himself 
believe  it.  For  man  carries  on  with  himself  an 
inward  conversation^  which  it  is  of  importance  to 
regulate  carefully ;  corrumpunt  mores  bonos  colloquia 
pravar 

We  ought  to  accept  what  a  child  says  or  does  out  of 
good-will.  His  confidence  in  all  those  around  him  , 
ought  to  stifle  his  innate  timidity.  When  we  think  of 
the  sum  total  of  courage  which  a  child,  who  feels 
himself  such  a  mere  beginner,  and  so  unskilful  in  every- 
thing, must  summon  up  to  express  himself  or  take 
the  slightest  initiative  in  the  presence  of  adults,  we 
understand  how  very  important  it  is  not  to  let  timidity 
get  the  upper  hand,  and  eventually  paralyse  him.  We 
must  therefore  look  at  the  child  with  an  encouraging 
eye,  making  him  observe,  merely  in  a  quiet  way, 
when  the  opportunity  arises,  that  he  would  succeed 
better  if  he  acted  in  such  or  such  a  manner.  He  must 
learn  everything ;  we  must  show  our  appreciation  of 
his  least  effort,  while  we  tell  him  what  effort  has  yet 
to  be  exerted. 

Why  is  it  a  good  thing  to  ^w^  tasks  to  children  ? 
To  accustom  them,  in  the  first  place,  to  zvill,  and 
in  the   second    place,  to   succeed — i.e.,   to   feel   their 


30  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

own  power.^     One   sentiment,  then,   that  should   be 

^developed  in  the  child,  is  true  self-confidence.  We 
all  have  pride,  but  we  have  not  all  sufficient  confidence 
in  ourselves — or  rather  in  our  perseverance  in  effort. 
Every  one  says  :  "  So  much  I  am  well  able  to  do  ; "  but 
few  venture  to  try,  or  if  they  do  they  quickly  give  it 
up,  and  pride  ends  in  a  kind  of  inward  abasement  and 
self-annihilation.  "  Have  faith  "  is  the  cry  of  piety. 
For  morality  it  is  further  necessary  to  have  faith  in 
oneself,  in  one's  own  power,  and  that  independently 
of  all  external  aid  ;  it  is  a  good  thing  to  expect  an 
abundant  spring  to  leap  forth  from  the  heart  at  the 
first  summons,  without  the  employment  of  the  magic 
wand  which  Moses  used  in  his  day  of  doubt ;  the  least 
doubt  may  make  us  dry  and  sterile,  and  prevent  the 
welling-up  of  the  living  will.  We  must  have  con- 
fidence in  the  power  of  our  lord  and  master — our- 
selves.    The  dominant  idea  of  religious  morality  is 

'  the  powerlessness  of  the  will  without  grace, — in 
other  words,  the  opposition  of  will  and  power,  the 
original  sin  seated  in   the   heart   of  man.     Original 

-,  sin  is  a  kind  of  suggestion  instilled  in  this  way 
from  childhood,  and  producing  a  real  hereditary 
sin.  There  is  in  us,  said  the  Hindoo  mystics,  a 
self  which  is  the  enemy  of  self.  This  internal  foe 
is  personified  by  Christians  in  Satan,  ever  present 
in   the   best   of  us.     Thus  the  obsession  of  sin  be- 

'    came    a   true    hallucination,    and    gave    place   to    a 

1  Only,  not  to  obtain  an  effect  diametrically  opposed  to  what  we 
desire,  the  task  must  require  a  minimum  of  time,  and  be  far  from 
exceeding  the  child's  powers.  The  task  should  only  be  increased  in 
proportion  to  the  strength  of  the  pupil,  and  so  as  to  always  constitute  a 
gymnastic  exercise  of  the  attention  and  the  will,  never  an  exhausting 
labour.  Madame  Perier  tells  us  that  Pascal's  father  made  a  rule  never 
to  give  his  boy  a  task  beyond  his  powers. 


SUGGESTION  A  MEANS  OF  MORAL  EDUCATION.      3 1 

doubting  of  the  personality  such  as  we  see  in  certain 
patients. 

Nowadays  we  no  longer  do  feel,  and  we  no  longer 
ought  to  feel,  the  demon  within  us ;  we  ought  to 
proclaim  that  the  so-called  "possessed  "  are  impotent"^ 
or  sick,  and  that  healthy  people  are  good  ;  man,  when 
vyt'qs,  is  the  real  aytos.  In  religion  and  in  morality  alike, 
the  idea  of  salvation — ie.y  healthgiving — is  the  essential 
idea;  it  is  in  no  way  essential  to  its  existence  that  it 
should  be  considered  as  a  simple  corollary  of  the  idea 
of  sin.  We  can  conceive  of  health  without  sin,  nor  is 
there  a  contradiction  in  this  ;  after  all  it  was  upon  the 
idea  of  health  that  Jesus  insisted  most,  much  more 
than  on  sin  ;  indeed,  the  most  imperfect  and  least 
human  portions  of  the  gospel  are  those  referring  to  sin. 
The  sentiment  of  sin,  no  doubt,  includes  an  element 
worthy  of  respect — scrupulousness,  the  conscience 
embittered  and  tormented  by  the  least  deviation  from 
its  ideal ;  but  this  inward  grief  must  not  increase  so 
as  to  fill  the  whole  of  life,  and  to  give  birth  to  what  is 
really  moral  pessimism.  If  self-distrust  be  a  good 
thing,  it  is  also  a  good  thing  to  believe  in  one's  own 
powers.  A  too  intense  sense  of  sin  may  lead  to  a  kind 
of  moral  paralysis.  We  spontaneously  link  ourselves 
to  the  object  of  our  dread  ;  we  are  attracted  by  the  fear- 
ful object  upon  which  we  fix  our  minds  ;  human  nature 
is  itself  perverted  by  asserting  its  irremediable  perver- 
sion. In  this  respect  the  lay  morality  of  Confucius, 
of  which  the  peculiar  characteristic  is  the  repeated 
assertion  of  the  goodness  of  human  nature  in  the 
normal  man,  is  much  superior  to  the  religious  ethics 
derived  from  Christianity  or  Brahminism.  Although 
the  doctrine  may  be  disputed  from  the  physiological  ^ 
point  of  view,  it  is  useful    for  educative  suggestions. 


^2  EDUCATION  AND  HEREDITY. 

"  I  say  that  human  nature  is  good,"  writes  Meng-Tseu  ; 
" .  .  .  there  is  no  man  who  is  not  naturally  good,  just 
as  there  is  no  stream  which  does  not  naturally  find  its 
own  level.  .  .  .  The  heart  is  the  same  in  all  men. 
What,  then,  is  the  common  property  of  all  hearts? 
What  is  called  natural  reason,  natural  equity.  .  .  . 
Natural  equity  pleases  the  heart,  as  a  tasty  morsel 
pleases  the  palate.  .  .  .  The  human  race,  created  by 
God,  has  received  as  its  portion  a  faculty  for  action  and 
a  rule  for  action."  Modern  philosophy,  while  re-estab- 
lishing the  ro/e  of  heredity,  must  return  in  a  measure  to 
the  ancient  wisdom  of  China,  and  must  free  man  from 
deadly  sin  ;  it  must  show  not  only  that  moral  obliga- 
tion presupposes  the  faculty  of  action,  but  that  it  pro- 
ceeds from  it,  that  it  is  the  normal  exercise  of  it,  that 
he  who  does  with  reflection  and  reason  what  he  can, 
also  does  what  he  ought.  "  Have  you  noticed," 
says  Meng-Tseu,  naively  enough,  "  that  in  years  of 
plenty  many  good  actions  are  done,  and  that  in  poor 
years  many  bad  actions  are  done  ?  "  Meng-Tseu  is 
right ;  all  the  causes  of  discord  among  mankind  are 
always  a  more  or  less  complex  transubstantiation  of  a 
piece  of  primitive  bread  ;  man's  real  sin  is  hunger  in 
all  its  forms.  An  organism  completely  nourished,  not 
only  in  its  framework  and  muscles,  but  in  the  finest 
ramifications  of  its  nervous  system,  would  be,  but  for 
morbid  hereditary  dispositions,  a  well-equilibrated 
organism.  Every  vice,  which  reduces  to  a  dis- 
equilibration,  thus  reduces  scientifically  to  the  more 
or  less  incomplete  nutrition  of  some  deeply-seated 
organ. 

Man  is  not  fundamentally  bad,  for  he  is  a  naturally 
sociable  being.  Homo  homini  lupus  is  true,  but  even 
the  wolves  have  some  good  in  them,  for  they  sometimes 


SUGGESTION  A  MEANS  OF  MORAL  EDUCATION.      33 

assemble  in  bands  and  organise  more  or  less  pro- 
visional societies.  Besides,  they  have  the  best  of  the 
animals — the  dog — for  cousin-german.  If  man  has 
sometimes  the  instincts  of  the  wolf,  he  has  also  those 
of  the  dog ;  he  has  also  those  of  the  sheep  ;  and  all 
this  makes  a  mixture  which  is  not  exactly  ideal 
virtue  or  sanctity,  but  which  Chinese  wisdom  was 
right  not  to  underrate.  Every  being  who  is  not 
monocellular  is  sure  to  have  something  good  in  him, 
because  he  is  a  society  in  embryo,  and  a  society  does 
not  subsist  without  a  certain  equilibrium,  a  mutual 
balance  of  activities.  Further,  the  monocellular  being 
itself  would  become  plural  if  more  completely 
analysed  ;  nothing  in  the  universe  is  simple;  now, 
every  one  who  is  complex  has  always  more  or  less 
solidarity  with  other  beings.  Man,  being  the  most 
complex  being  we  know  of,  has  also  more  solidarity 
with  respect  to  others;  moreover,  he  is  the  being  with 
most  consciousness  of  that  solidarity.  Now,  he  is 
the  bestj  who  has  most  consciousness  of  his  solidarity 
with  other  beings  and  the  universe. 

The  essential  purpose  of  education,  as  I  have 
pointed  out,  is  to  create,  by  direct  suggestion  or  ' 
repeated  action,  a  series  of  habits — />.,  of  permanent 
reflex  impulses,  capable  of  strengthening  the  other 
impulses  of  hereditary  origin,  or,  on  the  other  hand, 
of  substituting  themselves  for  them  and  arresting 
them.  The  most  certain  remedy  for  temptation 
assailing  the  instincts  is,  therefore,  as  all  educators 
are  more  or  less  aware,  suggestion  by  precept  and 
example,  by  idea  and  action.  Children  like  firmness, 
even  if  it  affects  themselves.  An  energetic  will, 
employed  for  what  is  good  and  just,  imposes  itself 
on  them ;  just  as  they  admire  physical  strength,  so 

3 


34  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

they  admire  moral  strength,  which  is  will:  this 
is  an  hereditary  instinct,  and  salutary  for  the  race. 
Now,  as  a  child  always  models  itself  on  those  around 
it,  and  imitates  especially  what  in  them  most  strikes 
it,  to  have  power  of  will  is  to  make  the  child  have  it : 
to  set  the  example  of  firmness  in  what  is  just  and 
true  is  to  make  him  in  his  turn  just  and  true.  But 
the  educator  must  proceed  in  a  manner  entirely 
different  from  that  of  the  trainer,  who  tries  from  the 
very  first  to  arouse  in  the  animal  a  tendency  to 
mechanical  obedience.  The  object  is  not  to  break 
the  child's  will,  but  to  prevent  the  struggle  with  the 
paternal  will  —  i.e,^  to  direct  and  simultaneously 
strengthen  the  will.  What,  then,  is  true  authority, 
and  how  should  it  be  exercised  ?  Authority  is 
composed  of  three  elements — ist,  affection  and 
moral  respect ;  2nd,  the  habit  of  submission — a  habit 
born  of  practice;  3rd,  fear.  Each  of  these  three 
elements  enters  into  the  sentiment  of  authority,  but 
ought  to  be  subordinated  to  that  of  affection.  Affec- 
tion renders  harsh  authority  and  punishment  useless. 
A  loving  child  obeys  lest  he  should  "  give  his  parents 
pain."  The  child  needing  punishment  is  the  child 
lacking  affection ;  lavish  on  it  enough  love,  and  blows 
will  be  unnecessary,  for  love  begets  love — the  most 
powerful  weapon  in  all  education. 

Besides,  affection  should  be  a  reward  earned  by  the 
child  for  its  conduct.  "Be  good  and  you  will  be 
loved."  And  it  must  attach  such  a  value  to  the 
reward  that  all  else  is  as  nothing  in  comparison. 
With  the  advent  of  reason  the  child  must  first  reach 
the  point  of  casting  out  fear,  and  then  obey;  not 
because  it  is  in  the  habit  of  obeying,  but  because  it 
respects  and  loves — especially  because  it  loves ;   for 


SUGGESTION  A  MEANS  OF  MORAL  EDUCATION.      35 

respect  is  at  bottom  nothing  but  affection.  But 
reason  ought  only  to  suppress  the  two  latter  elements 
— fear  and  the  habit  of  submission — when  affection 
is  strong  enough  to  compensate  for  them.  Analysis 
applied  to  submission  by  habit  destroys  it,  by  making 
it  a  matter  for  discussion.  To  the  sentiment  of  fear 
analysis  is  still  more  unfavourable ;  fear  is  only  moral 
when  spontaneous,  when  produced  rather  by  respect 
than  dread.  If  the  child  passes  from  this  stage  to 
that  of  reason,  he  will  put  the  satisfaction  of  acting 
as  he  likes  in  one  scale,  and  punishment  in  the  other, 
and  then  he  will  either  be  a  coward  and  give  way, 
or  he  will  harbour  a  rebellious  spirit.  The  child  is 
not  like  the  criminal,  whom  society  strikes  without  ^< 
troubling  itself  about  the  mental  impressions  punish- 
ment will  produce.  It  is  therefore  very  important  to 
prevent  this  spirit  of  analysis  from  dissociating  in  the  *^ 
child  at  too  early  a  period  the  elements  which  con- 
stitute in  his  eyes  respect  for  his  parents.^ 

Corporal  punishment  in  the  very  young  may  enter 
into  the  sentiment  of  moral  authority  as  a  constituent 
element,  but  this  element  ought  not  to  have  too  much 
prominence,  nor  should  it  encroach  on  the  others ; 
otherwise  it  alters  the  sentiment  of  moral  authority 
and  replaces  it  by  cowardly  fear  or  a  rebellious  spirit. 
In  order  to  decide  when  in  full  knowledge  of  the 
circumstances  whether  the  corporal  punishment  of 
little  children  may  be  useful,  we  must  lay  down  the 
general  principle  that  in  no  case  should  the  parents 

^  Practical  conclusion :  a  child  should  never  be  allowed  time  for 
reflection ;  he  should  )deld  to  a  spontaneous  movement,  should  be 
carried  away  by  repentance  for  his  fault.  It  is  important  that  he 
should  at  once  understand  that  the  punishment  inflicted  on  him  is  just 
—that  he  has  deserved  it ;  in  a  word,  he  must  be  morally  punished  by 
remorse  for  the  fault  committed. 


36         EDUCATION  AND  HEREDITY. 

show  brutal  anger  to  the  children ;  otherwise  the 
latter,  following  the  example  set  them,  will  feel 
themselves  in  their  turn  justified  in  being  passionate 
and  brutal.  Parents  may  be  indignant  with  a  mis- 
chievous or  unjust  act  in  proportion  as  the  child 
acted  mischievously  or  unjustly,  but  they  must  not 
show  violence.  The  justification  of  corporal  punish- 
ment at  a  tender  age  is  that  a  child  will  undergo, 
later  in  life,  the  ruder  consequences  of  his  acts ;  but 
as  these  consequences  do  not  always  follow  the 
immediate  accomplishment  of  the  action,  and  as  the 
child  is  too  short-sighted  to  foresee  the  future,  it 
follows  that  he  cannot  connect  effect  and  cause. 
Corporal  punishment,  inflicted  after  an  act  which  he 
knows  to  be  a  bad  act,  should  appear  to  him  the 
logical  sequel  of  that  act,  although  it  is  a  sequel 
conjoined  with  it  merely  by  the  will  of  his  parents. 
Trivial  corrections  ought  never  to  be  inflicted  on 
children  at  random ;  they  constitute  their  first  experi- 
ence of  the  social  sanction,  their  first  punishment 
after  a  verdict.  We  cannot,  from  the  pedagogic 
point  of  view,  help  approving  of  that  influential 
elector  in  mid-France,  who,  when  he  had  to  chastise 
his  children  rather  severely,  requested  that  the  rod 
should  be  wielded  by  the  hands  of  the  deputy  of 
the  department.^  Unfortunately  every  elector  has 
not  got  his  representative  at  his  disposal.  It  is 
none  the  less  true  that  the  least  blow  given  to  a 
child,   under   the    most  trivial  circumstances,  should 

-have  the  grave  character  of  justice — never  of  passion. 

'  The  child  being  pre-eminently  a  creature  of  routine, 

it   is   in    itself    a    grievous    matter   to   him    to   have 

imposed    upon    him    something    abnormal ;    and,   on 

^  Authentic. 


SUGGESTION  A  MEANS  OF  MORAL  EDUCATION.      37 

the  other  hand,  to  be  effectual,  every  chastisement 
should  be  abnormal,  exceptional,  and  reserved  for 
cases  of  open  disobedience.  The  essentially  excep- 
tional character  of  punishment  makes  it  formidable, 
and  may  make  it  a  powerful  means  of  acting  on 
the  child's  mind.  If  scoldings  and  whippings  are 
of  daily  occurrence,  the  child  will  get  as  accustomed 
to  them  as  to  sugar-plums,  and  that  at  the  expense  - 
of  his  character. 

A  moral  colour  must  always  be  given  to  punish- 
ments. By  provoking  fear,  punishment  creates 
hypocrisy ;  here  then,  again,  we  must  not  develop 
fear  alone  in  the  child,  but  moral  remorse  for  having 
displeased  his  parents.  Punishment  should  be  merely 
a  symbol;  moral  pain  should  be  first  blended  with 
physical  pain,  and  then  substituted  for  it.  Still  less 
should  two  reprimands  or  punishments  follow  close 
on  each  other,  whether  for  the  same  or  different 
offences ;  by  doing  this  we  exhaust  the  moral  effect 
of  the  reprimand,  and  produce  in  the  child  the  habit 
of  being  punished,  which  would  be  a  deplorable 
result.  When,  a  few  moments  after  having  been 
punished  for  a  trivial  offence,  the  child  begins  to 
"  sin  "  again,  it  is  better  to  close  one's  eyes  to  the  new 
offence,  or  suddenly  change  one's  tone.  Especially 
when  we  anticipate  a  bad  intention  on  the  child's 
part,  it  is  important  to  distract  his  attention,  and  thus 
nip  the  misdeed  in  the  bud.  We  ought,  in  fact,  to 
husband  our  reprimands  as  a  soldier  husbands  his 
resources  in  time  of  war.  Reprimand  or  punishment 
can  never  produce  their  moral  effects  at  the  moment 
of  infliction ;  they  must  have  time  to  act  before  they 
can  take  their  place  among  the  habitual  motives  of 
the  child.     Punishment  does  not  act  by  itself^  but  only 


38         EDUCATION  AND  HEREDITY. 

when  transfigured  in  recollection.  Time  is  an  essential 
factor  in  the  formation  of  child-morality,  and  the 
educator  should  not  proceed  by  revolution,  but  rather, 
as  nature  does,  by  uniform  evolution. 

No  doubt  the  object  is  not  to  make  little  reasoners 
of  children,  and  we  have  even  seen  that  sometimes 
reasoning  and  the  spirit  of  analysis  should  be  dis- 
trusted ;  but  we  must  make  children  understand  that 
a  parent's  orders  are  always  reasonable  and  capable 
of  explanation,  even  when  the  explanation  is  beyond 
the  grasp  of  the  young  mind.  There  ought  thus  to 
be  associated  with  the  natural  affection  and  respect 
ot  a  child  for  its  parents  a  perpetual  vote  of  con- 
fidence in  them  ;  they  ought  to  know,  once  for  all, 
that  their  parents  only  wish  their  good,  and  good 
in  general.  If,  then,  the  art  of  education  in  the  first 
place  consists  in  forming  good  habits,  it  also  consists, 
in  the  second  place,  in  strengthening  those  habits 
by  the  consciousness  and  by  the  belief  that  they  are 
rational} 

Every  recognised  profession,  every  social  status, 
may  be  psychologically  defined  as  a  totality  of  constant 
and  co-ordinated  suggestions  which   urge  to  action 

Further,  "of  all  the  errors  in  education  the  worst  is  inconsistency; 
just  as,  in  a  community,  crimes  multiply  when  there  is  no  certain 
administration  of  justice,  so  in  the  family  an  immense  increase  of 
transgressions  results  from  a  hesitating  application  of  rules  and  punish- 
ments." '*  A  weak  mother,"  says  Spencer,  "  who  perpetually  threatens 
and  rarely  performs — who  makes  rules  in  haste  and  repents  of  them  at 
leisure — who  treats  the  same  offence,  now  with  severity  and  now  with 
leniency,  as  the  passing  humour  dictates,  is  laying  up  miseries  for 
herself  and  her  children.  She  is  making  herself  contemptible  in  their 
eyes.  •  Better  even  a  barbarous  form  of  domestic  government  carried 
out  consistently,  than  a  humane  one  inconsistently  carried  out."  **  If," 
says  Jean  Paul,  "the  secret  mental  fluctuations  of  a  large  class  of 
ordinary  fathers  were  brought  to  the  light  of  day,  they  would  run  some- 


l^tlGGESTION  A  MEANS  OF  MORAL  EDUCATION.      39 

conformably  to  an  idea  or  general  type  present  to  the 
thought.  Suggestions  springing  from  a  profession 
may  be  detected  in  action  in  what  M.  Richet 
has  called  "the  objectivation  of  types,"  by  means  of 
induced  somnambulism.  If  a  hypnotised  subject 
thinks  he  has  become  a  general,  he  will  act  as  a 
general,  assume  a  tone  of  authority,  and  no  longer 
wish  to  recoil  from  danger ;  he  will  draw  his  sword  if 
accused  of  cowardice ;  if  transformed  into  a  good 
citizen,  he  will  act  as  a  citizen,  etc.  Given  any  type 
whatever  to  be  realised,  all  the  secondary  features  of 
that  type  will  be  faithfully  followed  out  in  the  repro- 
duction of  it  attempted  by  the  subject ;  his  tone  of 
voice,  his  gestures,  and  even  his  writing  will  undergo 
very  appreciable  modifications.  So  it  is  in  life :  our 
social  status  constantly  suggests  to  us,  in  all  circum- 
stances, and  often  even  in  spite  of  hereditary  tenden- 
cies, the  conduct  appropriate  to  that  status  ;  moreover, , 
that  is  why  a  regular  profession  has  always  a  greater 
moralising  influence,  because  its  suggestions  are 
always  accommodated  to  social  life  ;  the  absence  of  a 
profession  at  once  deprives  the  individual  of  a  whole 
class  of  social  suggestions,  and  thus  leaves  him  an 
easier  prey  to  the  influence  of  individual  passions  or 
hereditary  inclinations.      Not  only  a  profession,  but 

what  after  this  fashion  :  In  the  first  hour,  *  the  child  should  be  taught 
pure  morality;'  second  hour,  *  the  morality  of  expediency;'  third  hour, 
*you  do  not  see  that  your  father  does  so  and  so;'  fourth  hour,  *you 
are  little,  only  grown-up  people  do  that;'  .  ,  .  seventh  hour,  *  bear 
with  injustice  and  have  patience;*  eighth  hour,  *but  defend  yourself 
bravely  if  any  one  attack  you ; '  ninth  hour,  *  dear  child,  do  not  make 
so  much  noise ; '  tenth  hour,  *  a  little  boy  ought  not  to  sit  still  doing 
nothing.' "  And  Jean  Paul  reminds  us  of  the  harlequin  who  appeared 
on  the  stage  with  a  bundle  of  papers  under  each  arm,  and  who  answered 
when  asked  what  was  under  his  right  arm — **  orders,"  and  when  asked 
what  was  under  his  left — "  counter-orders." 


40  EDUCATION   ANl)   HEREDITY. 

even  a  uniform  has  an  incomparable  suggestive 
power,  and  legislators  have,  not  without  good  reason, 
always  attached  much  importance  to  the  uniform. 
It  is  not  mere  childishness ;  it  is,  so  to  speak,  the 
profession  itself,  made  visible  to  him  who  exercises  it; 
it  is  a  complete  regulating  principle  of  systematic 
action,  made  palpable  in  the  cut  of  a  garment.  The 
habit  does  not  make  the  monk,  it  is  true ;  but  respect 
for  the  habit  often  counts  for  much  in  the  conduct  of 
the  monk.  There  is  one  profession  that  is  universal 
— the  profession  of  7nan;  one  role  is  common  to  us  all 
— the  role  of  the  social  being;  the  idea  of  society  and 
sociability  must  therefore  be  suggested  from  child- 
hood, and  made  a  living  idea,  so  that  it  may  accom- 
modate to  itself  the  whole  being ;  the  ideal  of  the 
existing  human  race  must  be  raised  above  hereditary 
instincts,  and  gradually  modify  them  in  its  own 
direction.  Let  the  child  have  presented  to  its  mind 
from  the  earliest  period  those  words  of  Benjamin 
Constant,  which  sum  up  all  non-egoistic  life :  "  The 
great  thing  to  be  considered  is  the  pain  we  may  cause 
to  others."  Some  sentiments  are  social,  and  others 
unsocial ;  the  former  must  be  carefully  developed,  and 
the  latter  must  be  carefully  suppressed.      And  un- 

^^  sociability  lies  in  embryo  in  certain  mental  states 
which  are  apparently  of  no  serious  import.  For 
example,  very  early  in  life,  from  eighteen  months  to 

^two  years  old,  every  tendency  to  sulkiness  in  the 
child  should  be  combated.  Sulkiness  is,  in  fact, 
nothing  but  a  first  manifestation  of  unsociability. 
The  formula  of  sulkiness  is :  "A  love  of  displeasing 
those  who  displease  us."  Sometimes  with  sulkiness 
is  joined  a  lethargy  of  the  will,  w^hich,  in  the  presence 
of  another's   will,  gives   in,  for   fear   of  defeat,   and 


SUGGESTION  A  MEANS  OF  MORAL  EDUCATION.      4t 

much  prefers  confessing  itself  beaten  to  engaging  in 
conflict.  We  must  also  habituate  children  to  speedy 
reconciliation  with  the  person  who  has  reproved  them. 
A  child  of  three  or  four  years  of  age,  having  com- 
mitted some  peccadillo  for  which  he  was  scolded, 
several  times  asked  permission  to  embrace  his  mother, 
but  the  latter  obstinately  refused  ;  the  child,  in  conse- 
quence, conceived  such  a  feeling  of  rancour,  that  he 
acquired  the  habit  of  sulking  every  time  he  was 
afterwards  scolded.  Once  more,  we  can  only  make  a 
child  obey  by  making  him  love  ;  and  on  the  other 
hand,  we  can  only  make  him  love  by  making  him 
obey  when  he  is  given  a  rational  command.  By 
letting  the  child  get  the  habit  of  sulking,  he  acquires 
the  habit  of  abiding  by  the  fault  he  has  committed 
without  making  any  effort  of  reparation.  He  ex- 
periences, it  is  true,  a  vague  sense  of  uneasiness,  but 
this,  in  conjunction  with  the  gratification  of  self-love, 
deprives  him  of  all  active  remorse.  On  the  other 
hand,  if  we  never  let  a  scolding  pass  without  a  rapid 
reconciliation  and  final  kiss,  the  child  will  eventually 
be  unable  to  bear  the  idea  of  being  angry  with  any 
one ;  he  will  feel  he  must  atone  for  his  offence,  obtain 
pardon,  and  receive  the  kiss  of  reconciliation.  Thus 
the  educator  himself  may  lay  in  the  child's  mind  the 
foundations  of  that  complex  sentiment,  active  remorse 
— the  need  of  atonement  for  a  fault,  of  re-establish- 
ing the  equilibrium  of  the  friendship  disturbed  and 
fellowship  compromised. 

Bad  temper  is  another  unsocial  tendency  —  a 
tendency,  moreover,  which  is  depressing  to  the 
individual.  Bad  temper  is  a  very  complex  mental 
state,  which  it  is  of  great  importance  to  overcome 
at   an   early  age.      It   is   relatively   easy   to   repress 


xr  ?y 


42  EDUCATION   AND   HEREt)ltV. 

this  or  that  movement  of  anger,  jealousy,  or  im- 
patience ;  but  with  these  may  be  blended  a  general 
sentiment  of  bad  temper,  which  afterwards  will 
assume  countless  forms  and  be  betrayed  in  a  hundred 
ways ;  it  will  form  a  moral  atmosphere  surrounding 
the  whole  mind  from  which  it  will  be  very  difficult  to 
emerge.  A  child  thwarted  unwisely  and  at  every 
turn  acquires  in  some  measure  a  habit  of  melancholy; 
he  gets  a  habit  of  wrapping  himself  up  in  himself,  his 
heart  big  with  his  little  grievances,  and  of  turning 
them  over  in  his  mind  ;  later,  it  is  to  be  feared,  dis- 
couragement will  have  more  effect  upon  him  than 
upon  others.  Bad  temper  contains  in  embryo  all  the 
derangements  of  those  who  have  lost  their  mental 
equilibrium — derangements  so  acutely  expressed  in 
all  our  modern  literature.  It  is  a  good  thing  to 
accustom  children  to  the  gaiety  and  solid  good 
humour  of  those  who  have  nothing  to  reproach  them- 
selves or  others  with,  who  have,  to  use  the  popular 
phrase,  "  nothing  on  their  minds."  A  fund  of  gaiety 
which  follows  him  through  life,  and  which  he  has  at 
his  disposal  in  spite  of  every  trial,  is  created  for  the 
child  brought  up  in  this  way  with  indulgence  and 
smiling  affection. 

The  happy  child  is  more  beautiful,  more  loving  and 
lovable,  more  spontaneous,  open,  and  sincere.  His 
smile  lights  up  all  around  him,  and  gives  a  deep  and 
tranquil  delight  like  that  given  by  a  newly-discovered 
truth. 

As  society  is  a  reciprocal  suggestion,  the  object  we 
should  pursue  in  society  is  the  increase  and  not  the 
dwarfing  of  the  sentiments.  Unfortunately  the  latter 
is  the  result  whenever  we  are  in  prolonged  contact 
with  mediocre  men.     The  society  of  average  men  is 


SUGGESTION  A  MEANS  OF  MORAL  EDUCATION.      43 

precious  to  those  whose  intellectual  and,  above  all, 
whose  moral  level  is  below  the  average ;  but  it  is  not 
without  its  inconveniences  to  those  who  are  rather  ^ 
above  it.  Accordingly,  the  dominating  principle  of 
education  should  be  the  choice  of  companions  morally  < 
one's  superiors.  We  then  develop  in  the  right  direc- 
tion that  sentiment  of  solidarity  so  necessary  to 
mankind.  With  a  certain  moral  delicacy  we  may 
eventually  feel  ourselves  as  even  having  a  part  in 
the  merits  or  demerits  of  others.  "  The  goodness  of 
others  should  afford  me  as  much  pleasure  as  my 
own,"  as  Joubert  said.  The  goodness  of  others  must 
become  our  own  from  the  very  sense  we  have  of  its 
value. 

The  principle  of  all  disequilibration  is  perhaps  moral 
and  social.     Most  disequilibrated  minds  are  wanting  ^ 
in  altruistic  sentiments  ;  by  developing  in  them  these 
sentiments,  education  and  suggestion  may  be  able  to 
re  establish   the   internal   equilibrium.      One   of    the 
characteristic  features  of  the  criminal  class  is  the  total  ^ 
absence  of  pity.^     Now  we  cannot  suppose  that  an 
appropriate  education  is  unable  to  develop  this  senti- 
ment even  in  the  most  poorly  endowed  being, — in  a 
more  or  less  rudimentary  degree  perhaps,  but  enough 
to  modify  his  conduct.     We  may  even  at  the  bottom 
of  every  form  of  insanity  discover  a  certain  want  of 
the  social  instinct,  for  a  constant  symptom  in  insanity 
is  an  exaggerated   magnifying  of  self,  an  exclusive  < 
self-preoccupation.     From  extreme  vanity  to  madness  ^. 
is  often  but  a  step.     Now  vanity  or  pride,  the  first  of 
the  deadly  sins,  is  a  form  of  unsocial  egoism  :  the  man 
whose  altruistic  sentiments  are  sufficiently  developed 
appreciates  at  their  true  value  the  merits  of  others, 

^  Ellis,  TAe  Criminal^  chap,  iv.,  sec.  i,  **  Moral  insensibility."    (Tr.) 


44  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

and  thus  finds  a  counterpoise  to  his  sense  of  personal 
merit.  By  moral  and  social  suggestion  we  may  even 
prevent  the  formation  of  the  fixed  idea  in  the  mono- 
maniacs of  crime  and  insanity — a  fixed  idea  of  which 
the  elements  for  the  most  part  combine  from  a  very 
early  period.  To  know  how  to  "  moralise "  men 
would  be  therefore  the  power  of  introducing  equili- 
brium not  only  into  their  conduct,  but  also  into  their 
intellect,  and  into  the  inmost  recesses  of  their  being ; 
and  this  equilibrium  is  at  the  same  time  harmony 
with  others — sociability. 

To  sum  up,  suggestions,  the  mechanism  of  which 
is  now  occupying  the  attention  of  our  physiological 
psychologists,  are  only  isolated  and  curious  cases  of 
the  action  of  the  environment  upon  the  individual, 
of  percepts  on  the  being  who  perceives  them.  These 
suggestions  may,  as  we  have  seen,  disequilibrate  the 
organism,  but  they  may  also,  though  with  more 
difficulty,  restore  its  equilibrium.  The  influence  of 
the  social  environment  is  a  power  henceforth  too 
manifest  for  the  most  exclusive  partisans  of  heredity, 
of  hereditary  crime  and  vice,  of  the  inevitable  decay 
of  certain  races,  not  to  be  compelled  to  take  it  into 

^  account.  Hereditary  tendencies  are  nothing  but 
acquired  habits — i.e.^  accumulated  action  ;  it  is  the 
action  of  our  ancestors  which  is  now  prompting  us  to 
action,  and  which  in  certain  cases  disturbs  our  inner 
equilibrium.  The  corrective  of  the  action  thus 
capitalised  is  itself  action,  but  in  its  living  form,  such 
as  we  see  it  in  the  environment  that  envelops  us ;  the 

^  corrective  for  the  harmful  consequences  of  heredity — 
ix.,  of  the  solidarity  of  the  race  from  which  we  spring 
— is  our  solidarity  with  the  existing  human  race. 
The  hereditary  mechanism   and   the   intellect   react 


SUGGESTION  A  MEANS  OF  MORAL  EDUCATION.      45 

incessantly  on  each  other ;  they  are  two  forces  with 
which  no  one  ought  to  be  unacquainted  : — 

Every  individual^  by  the  series  of  acts  constituting  the 
framework  of  his  life,  and  ultimately  co-ordinating 
themselves  for  his  descendants  in  hereditary  habits, 
exerts  a  ^^ moralising''  or  depraving  influence  over  his 
posterity,  just  as  he  has  been  "  moralised''  or  depraved 
by  his  ancestors. 


CHAPTER   II. 

THE  GENESIS  OF  THE  MORAL  INSTINCT.      THE  R&LE 
OF   HEREDITY,   IDEAS,   AND   EDUCATION. 

I .  Power  of  Habits y  giving  rise  to  a  Momentary  Impulse  or  Perj7ianent 
Obsession,  ^ — Habit  and  adaptation — Habit  and  heredity — Habit  and  the 
sense  of  the  becoming — How  habit  may  produce  an  impulse — How  it 
may  produce  a  permanent  obsession  and  inward  pressure — Suggestion 
producing  an  obsession  and  a  kind  of  obligation. 

I I.  Power  of  the  Consciousness  and  of  Idea- Forces ,  the  Moral  Agent,  — 
How  the  idea-force  explains  the  two  terms  of  the  moral  problem: 
volition  and  the  object  of  the  will — The  active  subject,  the  moral 
agent  is  constituted  by  a  volition  capable  of  acting  by  an  effort  to 
realise  an  idea. 

III.  Power  begetting  Duty, — i.  Existence  of  a  certain  duty  created 
by  the  very  power  of  action.  2.  Existence  of  a  certain  duty  created  by 
the  very  conception  of  action — The  normal  human  type.  3.  Existence 
of  a  certain  duty  created  by  the  increasing  interfusion  of  sensibilities, 
and  by  the  more  and  more  social  character  of  higher  pleasures. 

IV.  The  Dissolution  of  the  Moral  Instinct. — Different  degrees  of 
moral  dissolution : — i.  Negative  morality.  2.  Moral  ataxia.  3.  Moral 
insanity.     4.   Moral  idiocy.     5.   Moral  depravity. 

V.  Heredity  and  Education  in  the  Moral  Sense.  —  Criticism  of 
Spencer,  Darwin,  Wundt,  and  Ribot — Moral  power  of  education — Its 
limits. 

I.   The  Power  of  Habits^  giving  rise  to  a  Momentary 
Impulse  or  to  a  Permanent  Obsession. 

We  have  seen,-in  the  preceding  chapter,  how  educa- 
tion and  suggestion  may  modify  the  moral  instinct 
which  has  become  hereditary  in  our  race.  We  now 
propose  to  ourselves  a  more  fundamental  and  more 
theoretical   problem  :   we  ask  ourselves  if  education 

1   Vide  p.  57.     (Tr.) 


THE   POWER   OF   HABITS.  47 

and  suggestion,  if  ideas  transformed  into  sentiments 
may  not,  with  the  aid  of  heredity,  produce  the  moral 
sentiment  itself.  In  a  word,  what  is  the  share  of 
heredity?  what  is  the  share  of  ideas  and  education  in 
the  genesis  of  morality?  There  is  no  study  more  apt 
to  give  us  a  deep  insight  into  the  two  essential 
terms,  in  their  union  and  in  their  antagonism,  of  the 
question  which  forms  the  problem  of  this  work. 

Heredity  and  education  alike  create  in  us  powers, 
which  tend  to  exercise  themselves,  and  are  in  fact 
exercised  when  opportunity  occurs.  What  then 
must  be  understood  by  the  word  power?  It  is  an 
inward  starting-point  of  activity  in  the  individual,  < 
which  is  no  longer  a  pure  and  simple  reaction  upon  a 
shock  initiated  from  without.  To  feel  within  our- 
selves the  power  of  action  in  this  or  that  direction,  is 
to  feel  ourselves  organically  pre-adapted  to  a  certain 
environment,  instead  of  having  to  adapt  ourselves  to  <^ 
it  by  a  series  of  experiments  requiring  effort.  To 
speak  of  power,  then,  is  to  speak  of  a  pre-established, 
constitutional  adaptation,  an  aptitude  ready  to  be  ' 
awakened  and  translated  into  actions.  Now  every 
adaptation  reduces  to  a  habit  of  the  individual  or 
race.  There  is  therefore  no  power  coming  into  play 
in  the  individual  which  may  not  be  explained  by  the 
property  of  habituating  itself,  possessed  by  all  living  - 
matter  and  every  species,  and  which  is  the  very 
foundation  of  educability.  We  know  that  habit,  on 
the  other  hand,  reduces  to  a  series  of  accumulated 
actions  and  re-actions,  stored  up  so  to  speak,  and 
facilitating  in  the  future  every  action  in  the  same 
direction.  Power  is  therefore  nothing  but  a  kind  of 
residuum  left  by  past  actions  and  re-actions ;  it  is  "^ 
action,  living  and  capitalised.     For  us  the  possible 


4^  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

V  reduces  in  a  great  measure  to  a  habit ;  it  is  a  deter- 
mination of  the  future  by  a  more  or  less  analogous 
past ;  it  is  an  inchoate  adaptation.  The  possible  is  a 
suppressed  realisation,  which  under  certain  conditions 
will  tend  to  become  actualised. 

In  its  origin,  even  in  the  most  rudimentary  being, 
every  action  is  induced  directly  by  a  stimulus,  or 
external  shock.  The  spring  of  action  is  placed  out- 
side the  being,  just  as  in  those  toys  of  which  the  arms 
and  legs  are  only  capable  of  motion  on  the  pulling  of 
a  string.  But  as  every  .accomplished  act  has  opened 
a  way  in  the  organs  for  the  accomplishment  of  a 
similar  act,  action  becomes  spontaneously  fertile,  and 
tends  to  reproduce  itself:  it  is  a  starting-point  of 
fresh  activity.     This  internal  starting-point  of  activity, 

•  habit,  begets  acts  which  are  no  longer  the  simple 
response  to  an  immediate  shock  from  without.  The 
primitive  string  pulling  the  arms  of  the  puppet  has 
become  the  mechanism  of  a  very  complicated  piece 
of  clock-work  placed  within  it,  and  only  needing  to 
be  wound  up  ab  extra  from  time  to  time,  owing  to  the 
stimulus  of  periodic  necessities.  Habit,  having  become 
an  instinct  in  the  race  by  heredity,  modifies  the  being 

^  so  as  to  accommodate  it  not  only  to  the  hrvX^S.  present^ 
but  to  mere  possibilities.  This  is  a  kind  of  uncon- 
scious prevision  based  upon  an  analogy  between  past 
and  future.  Hence  proceeds  a  profound  modification 
in  the  most  rudimentary  psychological  phenomena, 
to  which  we "  can  trace  the  beginnings  of  experi- 
ence :  for  the  impact  of  a  shock  or  sensation,  are 
substituted  promptings  from  the  very  depths  of  the 

^  being,  urging  it  to  action,  without,  so  to  speak,  pre- 
cipitating it  into  action.  The  impetus  of  a  sensation 
is  thus  prepared  for,  mitigated,  and  often  avoided  by 


THE   POWER   OF   HABITS.  49 

the  organisation  of  habits,  by  the  much  gentler 
and  much  more  intelligent  inward  springs  of  a  less 
suddenly  imperative  action. 

Now  it  is  important  to  distinguish  between  two 
kinds  of  habit  or  adaptation  to  the  environment :  first, 
the  adaptation  of  a  passive  being  to  an  environment 
always  the  same — for  instance,  of  a  rock  to  the 
surrounding  air,  or  of  a  plant  to  a  given  climate  ; 
second,  the  adaptation  of  an  active  and  moving  being 
to  an  ever-varying  environment — for  instance,  that  of 
a  man  to  the  social  environment — which  is  a  real 
education.  The  first  adaptation  is  made  once  for  all ; 
it  is  passive,  and  may  give  rise  m  the  being  to  new 
properties^  not  to  new  powers^  or  new  activities.  The 
second  is  always  unfinished  :  it  comprises  a  system  of 
reactions  which  is  always  incomplete,  without,  how- 
ever, being  entirely  wanting  ;  it  therefore  urges  to  an 
action  which  is  only  automatic  in  its  most  general 
direction,  but  which,  in  detail,  gives  rise  to  a  multitude 
of  spontaneous  and  even  self-conscious  acts.  Thus 
every  habit  of  action,  every  active  instinct,  tends 
to  awaken  the  intellect  and  activity,  instead  of 
entirely  repressing  them  by  automatism.  Natural 
history  might  furnish  us  with  an  infinite  number  of 
examples. 

There  exists  then,  at  the  outset,  a  formless  and 
obscure  nisus  of  life,  no  doubt  already  endowed  with 
a  vague  consciousness,  and  in  every  case  with  the 
faculty  of  habituating  itself,  identical  with  what  has 
been  called  the  organic  memory.  The  first  mani- 
festation of  this  more  or  less  unconscious  memory  of 
the  living  molecule  is  reflex  action.  Reflex  action  con- 
stitutes a  fixed  formula  in  the  fluctuating  changes  of 
life,  an  elementary  but  definitely-formed  track  in  the 

4 


50  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

education  of  the  being,  and  in  its  complex  adaptation 
to  its  environment. 

When  the  reflex  action  is  impeded  or  checked,  it 
tends  not  merely  to  produce  consciousness,  but  at  the 
same  time  (and  I  do  not  think  this  simultaneity  has 
received  sufficient  attention)  pain  and  consciousness. 
Consciousness,  in  its  origin,  could  only  be  due  to 
the  vague  formulation  of  pain  by  a  kind  of  inward 
cry;  it  is  the  solidarity  of  all  the  living  atoms  in 
presence  of  some  danger,  a  kind  of  echo  of  peril 
within  the  being  itself  Pain  sets  in  motion  all  the 
activity  at  the  disposal  of  the  organism  to  reppl  the 
causes  of  derangement.  So,  when  the  country  is  in 
danger,  it  is  clear  that  all  its  members  will  display  an 
activity  directed  towards  a  single  purpose — an  activity 
much  greater  than  if  it  were  merely  a  question  of  a 
national  fete.  There  is  more  solidarity  of  the  organ- 
isation in  pain  than  pleasure.  Hence  the  utility  of 
consciousness  for  the  preservation  of  the  individual, 
and  hence,  therefore,  its  increasing  diffusion.  The 
total  consciousness  no  doubt  is  in  its  origin  only  a 
propagation  and  multiplication  of  different  cellular 
consciousnesses  in  a  tremor  of  alarm:  it  is  not  the  calm 
self-inspection  that  psychologists  have  a  tendency  to 
represent  it  as  being.  Little  by  little,  after  a  series 
of  impeded  reflex  actions — i.e.^  of  interrupted  adapt- 
ations— is  formed  the  power  of  constantly  re-adapting 
oneself,  of  incessantly  moulding  oneself  in  conformity 
with  one's  environment.  It  is  this  power  of  continuous 
re-adaptation,  this  habit  of  constantly  re-habituating 
oneself,  which  is  at  once  the  basis  of  the  intellect  and  of 
the  volition  properly  so  called,  and  which  consequently 
is  the  main-spring  of  all  education.  Intellectual  or 
moral  activity  is,  so  to  speak,  a  broad  and  infinitely 


THE   POWER   OF   HABITS.  5 1 

flexible  adaptation,  allowing  a  large  number  of  re- 
adaptations  in  detail,  and  of  corrections  of  every  kind. 
In  other  words,  intellectual  and  voluntary  power 
reduces  to  a  habit  of  acting  in  a  certain  general 
direction, — a  habit  continually  transformed,  following 
the  particular  transformations  of  the  changing  environ- 
ment in  which  it  is  exercised. 

These  facts  being  established,  what  may  be  deduced 
concerning  the  genesis  of  morality,  and  what  part  in 
it  is  played  by  education  in  all  its  forms  ?  Let  us 
first  notice  that  even  in  the  consciousness  of  the 
habit;  as  such,  there  is  already  something  moral 
or,  at  any  rate,  something  aesthetic.  In  fact, 
beneath  every  moral  or  aesthetic  concept  is  to  be 
found  as  an  essential  element,  the  idea  of  order, 
arrangement,  and  symmetry.  The  aesthetic  pleasure 
caused  in  us  by  order  is  explained  by  the  pleasure  of 
repetition  (the  repetition  of  certain  movements  of  the 
retina,  etc.) ;  the  repetition  of  an  act,  in  its  turn,  is 
agreeable  to  us  only  from-  the  facility  attained — a 
facility  springing  from  habit.  Order,  then,  reduces 
subjectively,  in  a  great  measure,  to  habit.  Similarly, 
the  most  elementary  form  of  moral  order  is  regularity, 
and  in  connection  with  others,  reciprocity — i,e,y  the 
repetition  of  the  same  acts  under  the  same  circum- 
stances by  one  or  several  individuals.  To  be 
perfectly  accustomed  to  a  thing — that  is  to  say, 
to  perceive  it  without  experiencing  any  resist- 
ance in  any  of  our  senses,  and  in  any  of  our 
intellectual  or  motor  activities — is  almost  tantamount 
to  feeling  it  to  be  beautiful  or  good.  Every  habit 
begets  a  kind  of  personal  rule :  the  act  accomplished 
without  resistance  in  the  past  becomes  a  type  for 
action  in  future.     Habit,  in  fact,  is  a  force  having  a 


$2  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

certain  pre-determined  direction ;  it  is  therefore  the 
centre  of  a  system  of  actions  and  sensations,  and  it 
is  enough  for  it  to  acquire  self-consciousness  to 
become  an  active  and  controUing  sentiment ;  it  is  a 
sentiment-force.  The  idea-force,  to  which  I  will  come 
later,  marks  a  still  higher  degree  of  evolution.  Habit, 
in  a  word,  has  a  canonical  and  educative  virtue ;  it 
is  the  primitive  rule  of  life.  The  becoming  is  in  a 
great  measure  the  habitual.  Every  habit  tends  to 
become  a  force  imposing  itself  on  things  and  beings, 
a  formula  of  action  and  personal  education,  an 
immanent  law,  lex  insita.  We  may  even  ask  if  every 
law,  including  the  laws  of  nature,  does  not  reduce  to 
a  habit. 

Ceremony,  which  is  a  higher  development  of  habit, 
has  not  merely  a  religious  value  ;  it  has  also  a  moral 
value.  Now,  ceremony,  as  I  have  said  elsewhere, 
arises  from  the  need  of  reproducing  the  same  act 
under  the  same  circumstances — a  need  which  is  the 
basis  of  habit,  and  without  which  life  would  be  im- 
possible. Further,  there  is  something  sacred,  to  the 
'  primitive  man  and  the  child  alike,  in  every  habit, 
whatever  it  may  be  ;  on  the  other  hand,  every 
action,  v/hatever  it  may  be,  tends  to  become  a  habit, 
and  hence  to  assume  a  venerable  character — in  a 
measure  to  consecrate  itself  Ceremony,  then,  from 
its  origin,  has  to  do  with  the  very  basis  of  life.  The 
>  craving  for  ceremony  is  very  early  manifested  in  the 
child  ;  not  only  does  it  imitate,  and  imitate  itself, 
repeat,  and  spontaneously  repeat  itself,  but  it  exacts 
scrupulous  accuracy  in  these  repetitions.  The  child 
is  naturally  curious,  but  it  does  not  like  to  urge 
curiosity  to  the  point  where  it  might  violently  contra- 
dict what  it  knows  already,  or  thinks  it  knows.     And 


THE   POWER   OF   HABITS.  S3 

iri  a  measure  it  is  right ;  it  only  obeys  a  powerful 
instinct  of  intellectual  preservation  :  its  intellect  is 
not  flexible  enough  to  be  perpetually  tying  or  untying 
the  knots  or  associations  it  establishes  between  its 
ideas.  It  is  therefore  by  a  kind  of  instinct  of  intel- 
lectual protection  that  primitive  races  attach  so  much 
importance  to  their  customs  and  ceremonies.  In  the 
same  way,  all  the  acts  of  life,  both  the  most  insignifi- 
cant and  the  most  important,  are  classed  in  the  child's  ^^ 
mind,  rigorously  defined  according  to  a  unique 
formula,  and  modelled  on  the  type  of  the  first  act 
of  the  kind  it  has  seen  performed,  without  its  clearly 
distinguishing  between  the  reason  and  the  form  of  an  - 
act.  This  confusion  of  reason  and  form  exists  in  a 
no  less  striking  degree  among  savages  and  primitive 
races ;  and  it  is  upon  this  very  confusion  that  the 
sacred  character  of  religious  ceremonies  rests.^ 

Once  incarnate  in  the  being,  how  does  this  inner 
law  of  habit  manifest  itself?  I  have  shown  in  my 
Esquisse  d^une  Morale  that  the  power  of  habit  may 
give  rise  to  a  momentary  impulse  or  to  a  permanent 
obsession. 

The  power  accumulated  by  habits,  instincts,  and 
mechanical  associations,  in  many  cases  no  sooner 
appears  on  the  threshold  of  the  consciousness  than  it 
is  translated  into  actions.  In  these  cases  there  is  a~ 
sudden  and  momentary  impulse.  The  impulse  that 
meets  with  no  obstacle — even  that  of  delay  in  time — 
is  only  a  kind  of  reflex  action^  passing  like  a  ray  of 
light  across  the  consciousness  to  afterwards  re-enter 
the  shade.  No  impulse,  which  is  in  this  manner 
isolated  by  the  rapidity  of  its  action,  is  capable  of 
eliciting  the  complex  phenomena  which  constitute 
^  Vide  Irreligion  de  VAvenir^  p.  92. 


54  EDUCATION    AND   HEREDITY. 

moral   life.     It   is    a   force  which  only   momentarily 
gives  rise  to  a  conscious  idea,  and  leaves  no  deep  trace 

"on  the  mind.  The  moral  and  social  instinct,  in  its 
primitive  and  perfectly  elementary  form,  is  an  expan- 
sion which  has  almost  the  suddenness  of  a  reflex.  It 
is  a  spontaneous  impulse,  a  sudden  unfolding  of  the 
inner  life  towards  another,  rather  than  a  self-conscious 
respect  for  "  the  moral  law,"  and  a  search  for  "  utility  " 
or  "pleasure."  We  must  also  notice  that  with  the 
actual  development  of  the  human  intellect  and  sen- 
sitiveness, it  is  impossible  to  discover  the  moral 
impulse  in  this  state,  bordering  as  it  does  on  reflex 

"action,  apart  from  the  intervention  of  general,  racial, 
and  indeed  even  metaphysical  ideas.  Hence,  it  is  in 
the  case  of  animals  especially  that  we  must  with 
Darwin  search  for  the  moral  and  social  impulse  in  its 
naked  form.  We  may  recall  the  instance  of  the 
baboon  which,  seeing  a  young  monkey,  six  months 
old,  surrounded  by  dogs  and  in  a  desperate  situation, 
descends  the  mountain,  throws  itself  into  the  pack  in 
a  genuine  fit  of  madness,  snatches  the  young  monkey, 
and  succeeds  in  carrying  it  off  in  triumph.^ 

The  impulsive  force  ot  social  tendencies  is  powerful 
enough  to  precipitate  into  action  those  who  are  habit- 
ually the  most  incapable,  and  whom  the  conscious 
sentiment  of  duty  would  find  irresolute  and  impotent. 
M.  Ribot  quotes  the  case  of  a  patient  suffering  from 
aboulia,  who  found  all  his  energies  restored  in  trying 
to   save   an    injured    woman.  ^      At    other  times  the 

^  Vide  Esqiiisse  d'une  Morale. 

2  I  may  add  that  this  patient  was  finally  cured  by  the  excitement  of 
the  events  of  June  1848 — again  an  emotion  of  a  social  or  at  least  ego- 
altruistic  character,  which  shows  the  power  of  the  social  element  in 
the  individual. 


THE   POWER   OF   HABITS.  55 

spontaneous  sentiment  of  duty,  instead  of  urging 
to  action,  suspends  it  abruptly  ;  it  may  then  develop 
what  Messrs.  Maudsley  and  Ribot,  with  the  physiolo- 
gists, would  call  a  power  of  arrest  or  "inhibition," 
not  less  abrupt  or  violent  than  the  power  of  impulse.^ 
And  instinct  shows  its  power  still  better  by  suspend- 
ing than  by  provoking  action.  In  the  second  case 
there  is  nothing  to  overcome  but  the  force  of  inertia 
proper  to  an  organism  in  repose  ;  in  the  first  case  it 
has  to  strive  against  the  force  accumulated  in  a  certain 
direction.  Experiments  on  suggestion  readily  confirm 
this.  It  is  very  difficult  in  the  waking  state  to  per- 
suade a  person  that  he  cannot  open  his  hand  ;  but  if 
he  has  been  previously  asked  to  hold  tightly  an  object 
in  the  closed  hand,  and  if,  profiting  by  this  preliminary 
tension  of  the  muscles,  we  suggest  to  him  that  he  will 
be  unable  to  open  his  hand,  he  will  often  find  himself 
really  unable  to  do  so. 

M.  Bernheim  having  met  a  subject  who  thought  him- 
self capable  of  resisting  his  orders,  even  in  the  hypnotic 
state,  told  him  to  whirl  his  arms  round,  and  asserted 
that  he  would  be  unable  to  stop  ;  and  in  fact  he  could 
not  stop,  and  continued  the  gyratory  motion  of  his 
arms,  like  that  of  the  sails  of  a  windmill.^ 

In  my  Esquisse  (Tune  Mo7^ale  I  quoted  a  case  of 
sudden  arrest  of  action  produced  by  the  sentiment  of 
duty,  blended  with  sympathy  and  gratitude.  "  A  man, 
with  a  resolute  intention  of  drowning  himself,  throws 
himself  into  the  Seine,  near  the  Pont  d'Arcole.  A 
workman  leaps  into  a  boat  to  save  him,  but  being  an 
unskilful  oarsman,  the  boat  is  dashed  against  a  pier 
of  the   bridge,   capsizes,   and    the   would-be   saviour 

^  Vide,  Esquisse  d^une  Morale, 
!*  Moll,  Hypnotism^  p.  6i.     (Tr.) 


S6  EDUCATION    AND   HEREDITY. 

disappears  beneath  the  surface  just  when  the  would- 
be  suicide  comes  to  the  top  again.  The  latter  incon- 
tinently abandons  his  intention  of  suicide,  swims  to  his 
rescuer,  and  lands  him  safe  and  sound  on  the  bank." 
A  similar  occurrence  more  recently  took  place  between 
two  dogs — a  Newfoundland  and  a  mastiff — who  fell 
into  the  sea  in  the  midst  of  a  furious  fight  on  the  jetty 
at  Donaghadee.  Immediately  the  instinct  of  rescue 
was  awakened  in  the  Newfoundland ;  quickly  forget- 
ting his  anger,  he  brought  his  adversary  to  the  bank. 
But  for  this  the  latter,  being  a  poor  swimmer,  would 
have  inevitably  been  drowned. 

We  must  remember  that  certain  instincts  in  animals 
possess  the  same  power  of  suspending  an  act  begun. 
The  pointer^  for  instance,  seems,  so  to  speak,  nailed  to 
his  place,  as  if  by  a  mysterious  command,  just  when 
all  his  other  instincts  lead  him  to  bound  forward. 
Romanes  tells  of  a  dog  which  had  only  stolen  once  in 
its  life  : — "  One  day  when  very  hungry  he  seized  a 
cutlet  and  carried  it  off  under  the  sofa.  I  saw  this, 
but  pretended  not  to  have  seen  anything,  and  the 
culprit  remained  under  the  sofa  a  few  minutes,  divided 
between  the  longing  to  assuage  his  hunger  and  the 
sentiment  of  duty  ;  finally  the  latter  triumphed,  and 
the  dog  came  and  laid  at  my  feet  the  cutlet  he  had 
stolen.  Having  done  this  he  returned  to  his  hiding 
place,  whence  no  blandishments  could  induce  him  to 
issue.  In  vain  I  gently  patted  his  head  ;  my  caresses 
only  made  him  hang  down  his  head  with  an  irresistibly 
comic  air  of  contrition.  What  gives  peculiar  value  to 
this  instance  is,  that  the  dog  had  never  been  beaten, 
so  that  the  fear  of  corporal  punishment  cannot  have 
made  him  act  in  this  way.  I  am  therefore  compelled 
to  see  in  these  actions  instances  of  a  development  of 


THE   POWER   OF   HABITS.  57 

the  consciousness  as  elevated  as  the  logic  of  sentiment 
can  give  rise  to  without  the  logic  of  signs — i,e.,  in  a 
degree  almost  as  high  as  we  find  in  the  lower  savages, 
little  children,  and  a  large  number  of  idiots,  or  unedu- 
cated deaf  mutes."  ^ 

The  social  instinct,  by  the  force  of  natural  selection, 
eventually  permeates  so  thoroughly  the  whole  being  in 
all  its  parts,  that,  if  we  cut  an  ant  in  two,  the  head  and 
upper  half  of  the  body,  which  can  still  walk,  continue 
to  defend  the  ant-hill,  and  to  carry  off  the  females  to  a 
place  of  safety.  This  is  a  degree  of  spontaneous  im- 
pulse which  human  morality  has  not  yet  reached. 
For  this,  every  fragment  of  the  social  self  would  have 
to  live  and  die  for  others,  our  life  would  have  to  be 
blended,  even  in  its  deepest  springs,  with  the  social 
life  in  its  entirety. 

The  impulsive  action  of  an  hereditary  or  acquired 
habit  assumes  a  more  and  more  remarkable  character 
when  it  takes  the  form,  no  longer  of  an  impulse  or 
sudden  restraint,  but  of  an  inward  prompting  or 
persistent  tension.  This  is  obsession.  Obsession  is 
the  perception  of  the  effort  with  which  an  impulse 
enters  into  the  field  of  consciousness,  maintains  itself 
there  by  trying  to  subordinate  to  itself  the  other 
tendencies  it  encounters  in  that  field,  and  seeks  to 
prolong  itself  in  action. 

There  are  two  chief  starting-points  of  mental 
obsession  :  habit  (or  instinct,  which  is  an  hereditary 
habit)  and  suggestion  (conscious  in  voluntary  imita- 
tion and  obedience,  unconscious  in  the  phenomena  of 
hypnotism).  Obsession — i.e.^  an  impulse  persisting 
in  the  midst  of  internal  obstacles — is  an  important 
element  which  will  enter  at  a  later  stage  into  the 
^  Vide  the  collection  of  instances  in  Animal  Intelligence^  c.  xvi.    (Tr.) 


S8         EDUCATION  AND  HEREDITY. 

very  complex  phenomena  of  obligation.  The  marked 
distinction  between  them  is  due  to  the  fact  that 
obsession  may  have  nothing  rational  in  it,  may  urge  us 
to  acts  repugnant  at  once  to  all  our  logic  and  all  our 
sentiments.  Obsession  may  be  perfectly  irrational,  as 
in  the  case  of  the  insane  and  maniacs.  We  should 
notice  that  wherever  it  is  produced  it  always  endeavours 
to  become  rational,  to  explain  itself  to  itself,  to  insinu- 
ate itself  surreptitiously  into  the  main  current  oi  ideas 
which  is  continually  passing  through  the  mind.  This 
is  why  mad  people  always  have  in  reserve  more  or 
less  plausible  explanations  of  their  most  extraordinary 
acts,  even  of  their  irregular  gestures,  as  in  the  case  of 
the  madman  who  explained  the  nervous  agitation  of 
his  arms  by  asserting  that  he  was  weaving  sunbeams 
to  make  himself  a  garment  of  light.  Cases  of  hypnotic 
suggestion  are  pre-eminently  able  to  furnish  us  with 
the  most  striking  instances  of  the  fertility  of  the 
intellect  when  an  act  in  which  reason  has  had  no  play 
has  to  be  justified  on  rational  grounds.^  We  know 
the  case  of  the  somnambulist  who  had  been  told 
during  sleep  to  come  to  the  magnetiser  at  a  certain 
hour  on  a  certain  day.  On  the  appointed  day  she 
arrives  at  his  house  in  the  midst  of  a  dreadful  thunder- 
storm, and  as  she  can  recall  nothing  of  the  imperative 
order  she  has  unconsciously  obeyed,  she  finds  a  whole 
series  of  plausible  reasons  to  explain  her  visit.  We 
may  say  that  there  is  nothing  so  suggestive  to  the 
intellect  as  an  instinct  which  has  not  its  origin  in  it 
Manifesting  itself  in  the  form  of  a  fixed  idea,  before 
long  it  constitutes  an  intellectual  centre,  around  which 
all  the  ideas  crystallise  and  group  themselves  in  the 
most  unexpected  relations. 

^  Moll,  Hypnotism,  p.  152.     (Tr.) 


THE   POWER   OF   HABITS.  59 

A  person  she  mortally  hates  is  mentioned  to  Miss 
X.  when  in  the  somnambulist  state ;  her  anger  is 
aroused,  and  she  says  she  will  never  forgive  her. 
After  a  few  moments'  exposure  to  magnetic  influence, 
her  face  expresses  compassion  ;  the  action  of  the 
magnet,  while  modifying  the  functional  activities  of 
the  nervous  system,  has  modified  the  course  of  con- 
comitant emotions,  and  the  new  emotions  are  straight- 
way formulated  in  this  moral  theory :  "  Poor  wretch," 
she  cries,  "she  did  me  a  bad  turn  because  he  loved 
me  too  much.     I  cannot  really  hate  her."^ 

As  Dr.  Bernheim  points  out,  susceptibility  to  sug-  <• 
gestion  is  nothing  but  an  aptitude  for  the  transfor- 
mation of  idea  into  action.^  Many  experimenters 
record  the  state  of  anguish  into  which  the  hypnotised 
subjects  fall  when  the  time  for  acting  out  a  sug- 
gestion arrived.  This  anguish  may  be  explained 
by  two  causes.  The  first  is  the  very  search  for  the 
object  suggested  ;  they  know  they  have  something  to 
do,  but  what  ?  An  effort  has  to  be  made  to  draw 
from  the  depths  of  the  unconscious  the  formula  of 
obligation  they  feel  within  them.  The  second  cause 
is  that,  even  when  the  obligation  is  clearly  formulated, 
they  are  in  the  presence  of  an  action  not  habitual  to 
them,  or  which  is  contrary  to  established  ideas,  which,  ^ 
in  fact,  presents  something  peculiar  ;  and  suggestions 
always  have  this  character,  since  by  their  very  oddity 
the  experimenter  recognises  his  power. 

From  the  preceding  we  may  conclude  that  every 
formula  of  activity  which  is  obsessive  in  character,  and 
which  consequently  monopolises  the  field  of  con- 
sciousness, tends  to  become,  in  this  relation,  a  formula    ^ 

^  Revue  Philosophique,  February  1887,  Bianchi  and  Sommer, 
'  What  about  suggested  hallucinations,  etc.?    (Tr.) 


6o  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

of  obligatory  action ;  all  obsession  strives  to  develop 
into  an  obligation  on  its  emergence  into  conscious- 
ness ;  the  rude  mechanism  of  the  impulses  tends  to 
organise  itself  in  a  mental  and,  up  to  a  certain  point, 
a  moral  order. 

II.   The  Power  of  the  Cottsdousness  and  Idea- Forces^ 
the  Moral  Agent. 

The  force  of  the  idea  simultaneously  explains  the 
two  terms  of  the  moral  problem :  the  volition  and  the 
object  of  the  will.  The  volition  is  essentially  the 
power  of  simultaneously  representing  to  oneself, 
before  the  action,  all  the  contrary  motives  to  action 
or  inaction,  by  dieting  from  this  complexity  of 
motives  not  the  state  of  indecision,  but  the  perfectly 
self-conscious  resolve ;  the  impulsive  force  of  motives 
thus  appears  proportional  to  their  rational  character, 
and  thus  the  volition  is  the  germ  of  morality 
itself  In  the  well-organised  being  is  created,  to  use 
a  happy  expression  of  M.  Ribot,  a  series  of  corrective 
states  of  consciousness,  depressive  in  character,  which 
are  indissolubly  associated  with  states  of  con- 
sciousness of  which  the  consequences  would  be 
harmful ;  thus,  for  instance,  the  desire  to  touch, 
awakened  in  the  child  by  the  brilliancy  of  the  flame, 
is  habitually  associated  with  the  fear  of  being  burnt — 
a  depressive  state  which  eventually  annihilates  the 
prompting  of  the  desire. 

The  Buddhist  or  Christian  monks  used  to  say  that 
if  a  beautiful  body  excited  in  them  an  unhealthy 
desire,  the  thought  of  that  body  as  the  corpse  it 
was  soon  to  be  was  enough  to  cure  them.  This  is 
an  example   of  a   depressive  state  of  consciousness 


THE   POWER   OF   CONSCIOUSNESS.  6l 

associated  with  an  impulse.  A  being  is  capable  of 
education  and  morality,  in  proportion  as  it  is  capable 
of  volition,  in  proportion  as  there  are  operative  within 
it,  in  endlessly  increasing  complexity,  those  associa- 
tions which  bring  into  consciousness  an  almost 
simultaneous  survey  of  all  the  possible  effects  of  an 
act.  If,  with  M.  Ribot,  volition  is  defined  as  the 
reaction  of  the  whole  individual  character  in  a  given 
case,  we  must  conclude  that  an  act  is  only  really 
voluntary  if  with  the  strongest  tendency  that  pro- 
duced it  coexist  weaker  and  duller  tendencies  which, 
under  other  circumstances,  might  have  produced  a 
contrary  act.  A  complete  volition — i.e.^  the  total 
evolution  of  internal  energies — presupposes  that  to  the 
representation  of  the  act  itself  is  presently  associated 
the  weakened  representation  of  the  contrary  act.  ^ 
And  then  we  reach  this  conclusion :  There  is  no 
completely  voluntary  act — or  what  comes  to  the 
same  thing,  no  completely  conscious  act — which  is 
not  accompanied  by  the  sense  of  victory  of  certain 
internal  tendencies  over  others,  and,  consequently, 
of  a  possible  struggle  betwee^t  these  tendencies,  and 
therefore  of  a  possible  struggle  against  them. 

Liberty  pre-eminently  consists  in  deliberation. 
Choice  is  only  free  if  it  has  been  deliberate ;  we  must 
look  for  the  real  principle  of  liberty  behind  the  mere 
act  of  decision  in  that  period  of  examination  which 
precedes  it,  and  in  which  the  intellect  is  brought  into 
full  play.  Now  deliberation,  far  from  being  incom- 
patible with  determinism,  cannot  be  understood 
without  it ;  for  a  deliberate  action  is  one  for  which 
one  can  fully  account,  and  is  therefore  entirely 
determinate.  There  is  no  liberty  apart  from 
deliberation  ;    and,  on    the    other   hand,   deliberation 


62         EDUCATION  AND  HEREDITY. 

consists  simply  in  the  determining  influence  of  the 
best  motive  elicited  by  a  rational  process.  To  be  free 
is  to  have  deliberated  ;  to  have  deliberated  is  to  have 
submitted  to,  to  have  been  determined  by,  real  or 
apparent  motives.  It  seems,  then,  that  deliberation 
is  the  point  at  which  liberty  and  determinism  are 
fused.  Why  do  we  deliberate  ?  to  be  free.  How  do 
we  deliberate?  Through  a  balancing  of  the  motive 
forces  inherent  in  feelings^  and  ideas  which  operate  by 
a  necessary  mechanism.  But  why  do  we  wish  to  be 
free  ?  I  answer,  because  we  have  learned  by  experi- 
ence that  liberty  is  a  thing  practically  advantageous 
for  us  as  for  others.  Liberty,  like  all  accumulated 
power,  derives  value  from  its  possible  consequences. 

We  must  notice  that,  under  certain  conditions, 
fatality,  the  grossest  form  of  slavery,  cannot  fail  to 
assume  the  appearance  of  liberty.  If  a  dog  were  held 
in  the  leash  by  a  master  who  wished  to  go  exactly 
where  the  dog  wished,  and  as  quickly  as  it  wished, 
the  dog  would  fancy  itself  perfectly  free.  A  fish  in  a 
globe  of  water,  and  perpetually  attracted  to  the  centre 
of  the  globe  by  a  tit-bit,  or  for  some  other  reason, 
would  not  have  the  least  idea  it  was  confined  by  the 
vessel.  How,  then,  should  we  fail  to  believe  ourselves 
free,  being  as  we  are  in  a  position  infinitely  superior 
to  that  of  the  dog  or  fish  ?  No  one,  of  course,  holds 
us  in  leash  or  in  prison  ;  our  slavery  only  consists  in 
doing  exactly  what  seems  good  to  us ;  we  only  obey 
our  preference, — whatever  pleases  us  most.  Add  to  this 
that  no  one  can  ever  foresee  with  absolute  certainty 

^  It  seems  difficult  to  find  simple  words  completely  expressing  mobile 
or  motif.  The  mobiles  are  sentiments,  passions^  etc.,  influencing  the 
volition — i.e.t  are  emotional.  The  jnotifs  are  ideas  influencing  the 
volition — i.e. J  are  intellectual.  A  mobile  is  initiation  of  action  by 
feelitig.     A  motif  is  initiation  of  action  by  ideas  or  ends  in  vieiv.     (Tr.) 


THE   POWER   OF   CONSCIOUSNESS.  63 

what  we  will  prefer  to-morrow,  which  is  easily 
explained  by  the  perpetual  variation  of  our  motives. 
Each  of  them,  being  a  thought,  is  really  a  living 
being,  which  is  born,  grows,  and  decays  within  a 
few  moments.  All  this  is  enacted  within  us.  Hence 
we  believe  our  liberty  absolute  and  indeterminate, 
because  of  the  infinite  number  of  motives  which 
determine  us.  And  we  are  satisfied  within  the  limits 
in  which  we  are.  When  Christopher  Columbus 
landed  in  America,  he  thought  he  had  discovered  a 
continent :  it  was  only  an  island,  but  the  natives  had 
never  experienced  a  desire  to  explore  it  completely ; 
they  therefore  thought  it  extended  indefinitely.  This 
infinity  of  motives  prevents  all  fixed  equilibrium, 
and  forbids  all  prevision  on  the  part  of  the  external 
observer.  As  far  as  we  are  concerned,  to  end  this 
struggle  of  motives,  all  we  want  is  a  mere  desire  ;  nay, 
further,  the  mere  thought  of  this  desire  is  enough. 
An  action  conceived  as  possible  is  ipso  facto  of  itself 
sufficient  to  give  us  the  power  of  realising  it.  We 
can  never,  therefore,  conceive  of  an  action  as  impos- 
sible, for  the  mere  conception  of  that  action  makes  it 
possible ;  hence  we  are  necessarily  free  in  our  own 
eyes.  We  may  always  wish  for  what  appears  to  us 
more  desirable  than  anything  else,  precisely  because 
it  appears  to  us  as  such ;  and  we  shall  therefore 
never  feel  our  chains.  Thus  is  produced  the  delusion 
of  free  will, — a  lower  degree  of  freedom.  Certain 
desires  and  passions,  even  when  we  willingly  follow 
them,  show  us  only  too  clearly  that  it  would  be 
difficult  to  act  otherwise  ; — e.g.^  love  and  hatred.  We 
abandon  ourselves  to  these  passions,  and  feel  they  are 
our  masters.  Running  down  a  rapid  slope,  and  really 
wishing  to  run  down,  we  cannot  say  we  do  not  wish 


64  EDUCATION   AND  HEREDITY. 

to  run  down,  although  we  feel  ourselves  impelled 
forward  and  mastered  by  a  stronger  force.  That  is 
how  passion  acts.  That  is  why  a  more  complete 
liberty  appears  to  be  deliverance  from  violent  and 
coarse  passions.  Liberty  of  action  is  above  liberty 
of  desire.     Reason  alone  can  suspend  its  own  action 

-  in  time,  can  alone  ignore  habit, — the  acquired  force. 
That  is  why  reason  and  liberty  are  identical. 

If  now  we  notice,  with  M.  Ribot,  that  the  dis- 
tinctive characteristic  of  the  voluntary  act  is  that  it  is 
not  the  simple  transformation  of  a  detached  state  of 
consciousness,  and  that  on  the  contrary  it  presupposes 
the  participation  of  the  whole  group  of  conscious  or 
sub-conscious  states  which  constitute  the  individual  at 
a  given  movement,  we  shall  conclude  that  the  very 
idea  of  such  an  act,  of  an  act  in  which  our  whole 
being  participates,  is  the  idea  which  will  beset  the 
consciousness  with  most  force,  because  it  is  blended, 
so  to  speak,  with  the  whole  consciousness.     The  idea 

>  of  a  voluntary  act  is  therefore  by  its  very  definition 
the  idea-force^  which  possesses  most  practical  power 
in  our  consciousness. 

Every  idea  being  the  representation  of  a  possibility 
of  action  or  sensation  (the  sensation  itself  may  be 
resolved  into  an  action),  it  follows  that  the  group  of 
conscious  or  sub-conscious  states  that  constitute  the 
ego  is  nothing  but  the  shifting  equilibrium  of  repre- 
sentations of  action^  to  which  corresponds  an  impulsive 
force,  roughly  proportional  to  the  force  of  the  repre- 
sentation itself.  Our  ego  is  but  an  approximation,  a 
kind  of  permanent  suggestion.  It  does  not  exist,  it 
is  in  the  process  of  making,  it  will  never  be  complete. 
We  shall  never  succeed  in  reducing  to  complete  unity, 

^  For  **  Idea- Force,"  vide  Preface. 


THE   POWER   OF   CONSCIOUSNESS.  65 

in  subordinating  to  a  thought  or  central  volition,  all 
the  systems  of  ideas  and  tendencies  which  are  strug- 
gling within  us  for  existence.  All  life  is  a  deforma- 
tion, a  disequilibration — seeking,  it  is  true,  a  new 
shape  and  new  equilibrium.  Those  patients  whose 
personality  is  doubled  or  even  trebled^  show  us,  in 
an  exaggerated  form,  the  phenomenon  constantly 
going  on  within  us  —  the  coexistence  of  several 
centres  of  attraction  in  our  consciousness,  of  several 
currents  crossing  the  field  of  consciousness,  each  of 
which  currents,  if  not  limited  by  another,  would  sub- 
merge us  and  carry  us  away.  Our  ego  is  only  a  line 
of  division  between  the  different  currents  of  thought 
and  action  which  pass  through  us.  In  the  depths  of 
each  of  us  there  are  more  selves  than  one,  whose 
shifting  equilibrium  constitutes  what  we  imagine  is 
our  real  self ;  which  is,  in  fact,  only  our  past 
self;  the  figure  traced  by  the  mean  resultant  of 
our  antecedent  actions  and  thoughts,  the  shadow  we 
cast  behind  us  as  we  pass  through  life.  This  ego 
is  only  ours  in  so  far  as  our  past  determines  our 
future ;  and  there  is  nothing  more  variable  than  this 
determination  of  the  future  of  a  being  by  its  past.  It 
is  true  that  our  body  serves  us  as  a  centre  of  reference; 
it  is  the  basis  of  our  personality.  But  the  body  itself 
is  for  us  only  a  system  of  perceptions,  and  therefore 
of  sensations,  which,  from  a  deeper  point  of  view, 
reduce  to  a  system  of  favoured  or  thwarted  tendencies. 
Our  body  is  constituted  by  a  co-ordination,  in  unstable 
equilibrium,  of  every  kind  of  appetite ;  it  is  only  the 
rhythm  according  to  which  these  appetites  are  balanced. 
Without  the  law  of  habit  and  of  economy  of  force,  by 
which  a  being  is  always  tending  to  repeat  itself,  to 

^  Mercier,  Sanity  and  Insanity  (Walter  Scott),  pp.  367-369. 

5 


66  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

project  the  image  of  itself  into  the  coming  time,  to 
reproduce  its  past  in  its  future,  our  ego  would  be  lost 
in  each  of  our  movements — we  should  be  constantly 
^  losing  ourselves.  Our  ego  is  therefore  an  idea, 
and  an  "  idea-force ''  which  maintains  our  identity — 
though  that  identity  is  incessantly  threatening  to 
disappear  into  peculiar  and  present  phenomena ;  it 
is  a  regular  grouping  of  conscious  or  sub-conscious 
possibilities.  What  we  call  a  state  of  repose,  is  the 
moment  when  these  possibilities  are  in  equilibrium. 
Action  is  a  disturbance  of  that  equilibrium,  and  as 
every  such  disturbance  requires  an  effort,  the  possi- 
bility which  is  victorious  must  first  triumph  over  a 
certain  resistance  before  the  machine  is  set  in  motion. 
We  feel  this  resistance,  and  that  is  why  the  beginning 
of  every  voluntary  action  has  something  painful  in  it. 
At  the  same  time,  every  voluntary  effort,  as  such,  is  a 
germ  of  moral  energy,  an  education,  a  beginning  of 
moral  character  in  the  subject,  abstraction  being  made 
from  the  object  to  which  it  is  directed. 

To  properly  realise  the  most  elementary  part  of 
moral  energy,  we  must  carry  ourselves  back  to  primi- 
tive man,  incapable  of  any  voluntary  process,  of  any 
tension  of  the  will  which  is  not  the  mechanical  ex- 
pansion produced  by  a  momentary  need — incapable, 
in  fact,  of  any  kind  of  intellectual  attention.  For 
such  a  man  the  action  not  immediately  demanded  by 
a  need,  requiring  a  certain  share  of  reflection,  calcula- 
tion, or  consecution  of  ideas,  becomes  after  a  fashion 
meritorious.  Every  act  which  in  its  initial  stage  is 
a  thought  or  sentiment,  instead  of  being  a  simple 
answer  to  a  brute  sensation,  everything  which  is 
raised  above  a  simple  reflex  action,  ipso  facto  assumes 
a   moral    character.      The    Turk,   with   his    oriental 


THE   POWER   OF   CONSCIOUSNESS.  67 

inertia,  in  the  eyes  of  the  moralist  will  have  some 
merit  when  he  repairs  a  house  that  is  tumbling  into 
ruins,  when  he  fills  up  the  ruts  in  front  of  his  door,  or 
when  he  hastens  his  leisurely  gait  to  help  another, — 
even  from  some  motive  of  self-interest.  A  fortiori^ 
the  primitive  man  will  have  displayed  a  rudimentary 
moral  energy  in  the  construction  of  his  first  hut,  or  in 
fashioning  his  first  tools.  When  premeditated  and 
organised  action  begins — action  willed  in  its  successive 
stages — some  element  of  art,  morality,  and  personal 
education  is  already  shown.  This  is  because,  when 
the  will  pursues  an  end,  immediately  the  sense  of 
effort  of  resistance  to  overcome  arises,  and  because 
the  first  act  of  morality  was  effort  intentionally  sus- 
tained,— the  active  and  painful  realisation  of  any  idea, 
however  naive  and  elementary  it  may  have  been.  The 
function — at  once  the  deepest  and  simplest — of  moral 
life  is  to  realise  in  this  way  an  idea  or  sentiment  by  a 
self-conscious  effort. 

If  every  self-conscious  action  requires  a  certain 
effort  or  a  certain  tension  of  the  will  to  disturb 
internal  equilibrium,  and  if  it  thereby  presents  a 
moral  character,  it  is  no  longer  so  when  we  act  in 
consequence  of  an  immediate  need,  and  still  less  so 
when  this  need  is  of  the  most  definite,  pressing,  and 
present  character — as,  for  instance,  hunger  and  thirst. 
The  inner  equilibrium  is  disturbed,  to  start  with,  by 
suffering,  by  a  discomfort  to  which  action  alone  serves 
as  a  remedy.  At  this  stage,  action  is  no  longer  the 
result  of  an  inward  and  self-conscious  tension,  but 
rather  the  result  of  a  spontaneous  expansion  ;  the 
action  bursts  into  being  of  itself,  just  as  we  are  sub- 
ject to  a  burst  of  laughter  or  tears.  Hence  it  follows 
that  we  act  without  the  sense  of  effort.     On  the  other 


68  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

hand,  the  sense  of  the  effort  necessary  to  commence 
an  action  increases  in  proportion  to  the  ill-defined 
and  indistinct  character  of  the  need  requiring  the 
action.  This  is  why,  in  the  early  days  of  weaning,  a 
real  effort  and  a  first  step  in  education  are  required  in 
order  that  the  child  may  begin  to  take  the  nourish- 
ment offered  it.  It  experiences  a  need  that  is  very 
real,  which  is  not  yet  associated  in  any  definite 
manner  with  this  or  that  food,  specified  by  sensations 
of  taste  ;  the  need  remains  an  indeterminate  suffering, 
"  and  the  child  is  disposed  to  passively  await  the  cessa- 
tion of  that  suffering ;  it  cries  and  does  not  know  it  is 
hungry,  sometimes  even  it  rebels  against  the  effort  of 
mastication  and  deglutition.  It  is  only  by  a  series  of 
experiments,  adaptations,  and  associations,  by  a  more 

>  or  less  tardy  education,  that  all  physical  suffering  in 
the  living  being,  combining  at  once  with  the  repre- 
sentation of  its  remedy,  becomes  the  immediate 
spring  of  this  or  that  determined  action.     All  pain, 

>  therefore,  tends  to  become  only  the  translation  into 
sensible  language  of  a  possibility  or  necessity  of 
action  ;  hunger  is  the  possibility  and  necessity  of 
eating  ;  thirst,  the  possibility  and  necessity  of  drink- 
ing ;  as  soon  as  the  animal  has  felt  the  need,  it  sets 
to  work  to  find  the  remedy.  The  disturbance  of 
equilibrium  in  the  inward  energy  begins  with  the 
sensation  itself,  and  the  sense  of  the  need  of  action 
suppresses  the  sense  of  the  effort  involved. 

>  Accordingly  desire  must  not  be  confounded  with  duty. 

>  There  are  two  kinds  of  desires — the  desire  of  enjoy- 
ment and  the  desire  of  action.  The  first  results  in  the 
clear  representation  of  an  external  object,  with  refer- 
ence to  which  the  moral  agent  is  in  a  state  of  passivity ; 
the  second  results  in  the  representation  of  a  state  of 


THE   POWER  OF   CONSCIOUSNESS.  69 

inward  tension,  of  an  action  or  group  of  actions 
depending  on  the  moral  subject.  Although,  at 
bottom,  there  is  always  partial  passivity  within  us, 
it  increases  when  we  are  a  prey  to  any  desire  ;  it 
decreases,  on  the  other  hand,  when  we  feel  ourselves 
urged  forward  by  the  consciousness  of  a  duty — 
i.e.,  by  an  active  idea  of  a  higher  order,  which  opens 
for  itself  a  way  through  the  environment  of  internal 
or  external  resistances.  The  very  enjoyment  of  a 
duty  is  aesthetically  quite  different  from  all  other 
enjoyments  ;  its  serious  character  is  its  distinctive 
mark  to  the  impartial  observer,  and  this  character 
may  certainly  place  it,  in  the  case  of  many  people, 
outside  the  reach  of  everyday  life.  This  or  that  noble 
piece  of  classical  music,  for  example,  will  exert  no 
attraction  on  men  whose  musical  taste  is  little 
developed.  Morality,  it  might  be  said,  is  the  serious 
music  of  existence ;  a  certain  education  is  necessary 
before  an  exclusive  appreciation  of  its  charms  can  be 
reached,  before  the  sublime  rhythm  of  the  morally 
beautiful  is  preferred  to  the  trivial  dance  airs  we  hear 
everywhere  around  us  on  our  way  through  life. 

Every  time  an  inward  tendency  is  awakened  and 
revealed  to  itself  by  the  presence  of  an  external 
object,  it  seems  to  lose  in  force  of  internal  tension  all 
that  it  gains  in  force  arising  from  external  representa- 
tion and  solicitation.  The  moral  good  itself  seems  to 
change  its  nature  when  we  bring  before  our  minds  the 
luxury  of  doing  good  :  it  then  appears  that  we  are 
rather  persuaded  than  obliged  to  do  good.  It  is  in  the 
effort  and  slowness  with  which  the  inward  equilibrium 
is  disturbed  that  we  really  obtain  consciousness  of 
obligation. 

Between   the   desire   of  action   and  the  desire  of 


70  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

enjoyment  is  the  same  difference  as  between  the  ten- 
'  dency  urging  the  true  artist  to  produce  a  work  of  his 
own  and  the  desire  an  amateur  may  experience  to  go 
and  hear  the  work  of  another.  The  desire  of  action 
is  one  of  the  elements  of  duty;  and,  on  the  other  hand, 
duty  generally  excludes  the  desire  of  enjoyment.  It 
has  been  said  that  the  moral  will  is  the  power  of 
acting  along  the  line  of  greatest  resistance.  That  is 
true,  provided  we  add  that  the  power  thus  revealed  is 
greater  than  the  said  resistance..  In  other  words,  the 
moral  subject  is  constituted  by  a  will  capable  of 
acting  with  effort  to  realise  an  ideal.  Thus,  in  the 
normal  state  the  sense  of  obligation  should  be 
proportional  to  the  capacity  a  man  possesses  of 
making  an  internal  effort,  or,  in  other  words,  of 
being  led  by  the  force  of  an  idea — for  volition  is 
thought  with  a  certain  consecution  of  ideas.  The 
sense  of  obligation,  on  the  contrary,  diminishes  in 
direct  ratio  with  the  weakness  of  the  will :  feeble 
characters,  incapable  of  this  tension  and  fatigue  that 
every  resistance  to  the  first  impulse  necessitates,  are 
therefore  those  who  will  feel  the  least  remorse,  or  in 
whom  remorse  will  be  least  adapted  to  produce  its 
corrective  and  educative  effects.  To  sum  up — to  feel 
ourselves  under  an  obligation,  we  must  feel  ourselves 
capable  of  sustaining  an  inward  struggle :  it  is  the 
consciousness  of  a  force  which  is  also  a  thought, 
the  consciousness  of  a  logic  working  itself  out, 
the  consciousness  of  an  internal  command.  Every 
idea  which  reaches  the  threshold  of  the  conscious- 
ness only  penetrates  it  and  maintains  its  position 
by  a  kind  of  restraint  exercised  upon  other  ideas. 
Thus  consciousness  itself  is  the  result  of  a  struggle : 
as    the    physiologists    have    shown,    it    corresponds 


THE  POWER  OF  CONSCIOUSNESS.  7I 

to  a  movement  which  maintains  and  propagates 
itself  in  spite  of  all  obstacles.  Every  conscious- 
ness IS  a  spontaneous  choice,  a  natural  selection,  and 
that  is  precisely  why  it  will  be  the  moral  idea  which 
will  some  day  suppress  all  others.  From  the  action 
which  is  accumulated  by  habit,  and  which  becomes 
reflex,  springs  fresh  power  of  action  ;  from  this  power 
spring  simultaneously  consciousness  and  morality, 
the  thought  of  power  and  of  duty  :  every  idea  enfolds 
the  germ  of  a  duty.  Each  thinking  and  willing  being 
has  already  within  him,  because  he  thinks  and  wills, 
a  primary  element  of  morality  which  will  be  fixed  and 
organised  by  education  and  evolution :  it  constitutes 
a  moral  subject. 

It  follows  that  the  basis  of  education  is  to  develop  ^^c 
the  will,  and  ipso  facto  to  form  a  subject  capable  of 
morality.  We  are  too  much  led  to  judge  children's 
actions  objectively,  to  measure  them  by  our  rules,  by 
our  precepts,  and  our  own  ideals.  The  child's  ideal 
cannot  be  and  ought  not  to  be  so  developed;  we 
must  therefore  pay  special  attention  to  the  force  of  . 
will  displayed  by  the  child,  to  its  self-control,  to  its 
power  of  internal  resistance.  This  or  that  mark  of 
will,  which  thwarts  us,  puts  us  out,  or  wounds  us,  may 
be  in  reality  the  mark  of  internal  and  subjective 
progress.  Energy  must  be  stored  up  before  it  can  be 
discharged  in  the  proper  direction.  The  genesis  of^^c 
morality  is  pre-eminently  the  genesis  of  the  will ;  its 
education  ought  to  be  the  reinforcement  of  the  will ; 
the  will  develops  its  own  activity  as  it  apprehends  its 
own  powers. 


f2  EDUCATION    AND    HEREDITY. 

III.  Power  Begetting  Duty. 

Let  us  now  proceed  from  the  moral  subject  to  the 
object.  In  my  opinion,  it  is  the  subject  itself  which 
after  a  fashion  creates  its  object  for  itself,  in  the  sense 
that  the  consciousness  of  a  higher  power  produces  of 
itself  the  consciousness  of  a  duty.  To  prove  this,  let 
us  look  at  the  question,  as  I  have  done  in  my  Esquisse 
(Tune  Morahy  from  the  triple  point  of  view  of  the  will, 
the  intellect,  and  the  sensibility. 

1st.  Duty  is  the  consciousness  of  a  certain  internal 
power,  superior  in  character  to  all  other  powers.  To 
be  inwardly  aware  that  one  is  capable  of  doing  some- 
thing greater  is  ipso  facto  to  have  the  dawning 
consciousness  that  it  is  one's  duty  to  do  it  Duty, 
from  the  point  of  view  of  facts  and  apart  from 
metaphysical  notions,  is  a  superabundance  of  life 
requiring  exercise  and  development ;  it  has  hitherto 
been  too  often  interpreted  as  the  sense  of  a  necessity 
or  restraint,  I  think  I  have  shown  in  my  Esquisse 
(Tune  Morale  that  it  is  pre-eminently  the  sense  of  a 
power,  "  All  force  which  is  accumulating  creates 
pressure  against  the  obstacles  in  its  way ;  all  power, 
considered  by  itself,  produces  a  kind  of  obligation 
proportional  to  it:  power  to  act  is  duty  to  act. 
Among  inferior  beings  whose  intellectual  life  is 
checked  and  stifled  there  are  few  duties  ;  but  it  is 
because  there  are  few  powers.  Civilised  man  has 
innumerable  duties,  because  he  has  a  wealth  of 
activity  to  expend  in  countless  ways."^  And  not 
merely  duty,  but  even  the  will  is  largely  reducible  to 
the  consciousness  of  a  possible  self  If  will  is  power,  it 
is  because  the  will  is  referable  to  a  belief  that  we  have 

^  Vide  Esquisse  d^une  Morale. 


POWER   BEGETTING   DUTY.  73 

the  power,  and  because  belief  is  a  beginning  of  action. 
The  will  itself  is  thus  an  action  at  its  initiation. 

From  this  point  of  view,  which  has  nothing  of  the 
mystical  about  it,  I  have  reduced  moral  obligation  to 
that  great  law  of  nature  :  Life  can  only  be  maintained 
by  development  It  has  been  objected  that  the  fecun- 
dity of  our  various  internal  powers  may  be  as  amply 
satisfied  in  conflict  as  in  harmony  with  others,  in  the 
suppression  as  well  as  in  the  helping  upward  of  other 
personalities.  But  in  the  first  place  it  is  forgotten 
that  the  others  are  not  so  easily  suppressed  :  the  will 
which  seeks  to  impose  itself  on  others  necessarily 
meets  with  resistance.  Even  if  it  triumphs  over  that 
resistance,  it  cannot  do  so  single-handed  ;  it  must  fall 
back  upon  the  assistance  of  allies,  and  thus  constitute 
a  social  combination,  and,  in  view  of  this  friendly 
combination,  impose  upon  itself  the  very  slavery 
from  which  it  wished  to  free  itself  with  respect  to 
other  men,  its  natural  allies.  Every  struggle,  there- 
fore, always  issues  in  an  external  limitation,  and  in 
the  second  place  in  an  internal  alteration  of  the  will. 
The  violent  man  stifles  all  the  sympathetic  and 
intellectual  side  of  his  being — i.e.,  all  in  him  that  is, 
from  the  evolution  point  of  view,  most  complex  and 
elevated.  Brutalising  others,  he  more  or  less  brutalises 
himself.  Violence,  which  thus  seems  to  be  a  victorious 
expansion  of  the  inward  power,  ends  by  restricting  it ; 
to  set  before  our  will  the  abasement  of  others  as  an 
end,  is  to  set  before  it  an  insufficient  aim,  and  to 
impoverish  our  own  being.  In  fact,  by  a  final  and 
deeper  disorganisation,  the  will  proceeds  to  completely 
and  spontaneously  disequilibrate  itself  by  the  use  of 
violence ;  when,  as  in  the  case  of  despots,  it  is  not 
accustomed   to  meet  with  opposition  from   without. 


74  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

every  impulse  becomes  irresistible  in  it;  the  most 
contradictory  tendencies  then  succeed  one  another; 
complete  ataxia  ensues ;  the  despot  becomes  a  child 
again,  he  gives  himself  up  to  the  most  contradictory 
caprices,  and  his  objective  omnipotence  eventually 
brings  on  what  is  really  subjective  impotence. 

If  this  be  so,  internal  fecundity  and  fertility  ought 
to  be  the  first  aim  of  moral  education,  of  what  the 
Germans  call  culture.  This  is  what  makes  education 
so  superior  to  instruction.  Education  creates  living 
forces  ;  instruction  directs  them. 

2nd.  Just  as  the  power  of  activity  involves  a  kind 
of  natural  obligation  or  imperative  impulse,  so  the 
intellect  has  in  itself  a  motive  power.  When  we  rise 
to  a  sufficiently  high  level,  we  may  find  ends  of  action 
which  no  longer  operate  merely  as  feelings,  but  which, 
in  themselves  and  by  themselves,  without  the  direct 
intervention  of  the  sensibility,  are  motive  principles  of 
activity  and  life.  The  will  as  a  whole  is  at  bottom 
nothing  but  inward  power  in  operation,  action  in 
embryo.  The  wish  to  do  good,  if  sufficiently  conscious 
of  its  own  force,  need  not  therefore  wait  for  grace  from 
without :  it  is  its  own  grace ;  in  the  nascent  stage  it 
was  already  efficacious ;  nature,  by  willing,  creates. 

Here  again  the  important  theory  of  idea-forces 
may  be  applied.  Every  power  felt  within  us  has  a 
point  of  application  ;  I  can  do  anything  possible^  and 
among  possibilities  those  which  appear  to  me  most 
rational  and  desirable  are  ideals^  idea- forces  ;^  our 
ideal  is  only  the  projection,  the  objectifying  of  our 
inner  power,  the  form  it  assumes  for  the  self-conscious 
intellect 

^   Vide  A.  Fouillee,  Critique  des  Sysihnes  de  Morale  Contemporaine 
(second  edition). 


POWER   BEGETTING   DUTY.  75 

Among  the  most  powerful  idea-forces  we  first  find 
that  of  the  normal  human  type^  an  aesthetic  and  moral 
idea,  which  is  no  more  difficult  to  acquire  than  that 
of  the  tree  or  animal  for  instance,  and  which,  once 
acquired,  tends  to  actualise  itself  in  us.  Further,  as 
we  live  in  a  community,  we  conceive  more  or  less 
distinctly  a  normal  social  type.  In  fact,  from  the  very 
function  of  all  society — as  of  every  organism — is  dis- 
engaged the  vague  idea  of  what  is  normal,  healthy, 
and  conformable  to  the  general  direction  of  social 
changes. 

Our  temperament,  through  the  countless  oscillations 
of  evolution,  tends  however  to  always  accommodate 
itself  more  and  more  to  the  environment  in  which  we 
live,  to  ideas  of  sociability  and  morality.  The  thief, 
mentioned  by  Maudsley,  who  took  such  pleasure  in 
stealing,  even  if  he  were  worth  millions,  is  a  kind  of 
social  monster,  and  of  this  he  ought  to  be  vaguely 
conscious  when  comparing  himself  with  almost  any 
other  man.  To  be  completely  happy  he  would  have 
to  meet  with  a  community  of  monsters  like  himself, 
and  in  their  turn  presenting  to  him  his  own  image. 
Although  remorse  has  an  entirely  empirical  origin,  the 
very  nature  of  the  mechanism  producing  it  is  rational; 
it  tends  to  favour  normal — Le,^  social  and,  in  a  word, 
moral  beings. 

The  anti-social  being  is  as  much  sundered  from  the 
type  of  moral  man  as  the  hunchback  from  the  type 
of  physical  man  ;  hence  arises  the  inevitable  shame 
we  experience  when  we  feel  anything  anti-social 
within  us ;  hence  also  our  desire  to  stamp  out  this 
monstrosity.  We  see  the  importance  of  the  idea  of 
normality  in  the  idea  of  morality.  There  is  something 
offensive  to  thought  and  sensibility  alike  in  being  a 


76  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

monstrosity,  in  not  feeling  oneself  in  harmony  with 
all  other  beings,  in  not  being  able  to  contemplate 
ourselves  in  them,  or  re-discover  them  in  ourselves. 
The  idea  of  absolute  responsibility  being  no  longer 
tenable  in  the  present  state  of  science,  remorse  reduces 
to  regret — regret  at  being  inferior  to  one's  own  ideal, 
at  being  abnormal,  and  more  or  less  monstrous. 
We  cannot  feel  some  inward  imperfection  without  an 
accompanying  sense  of  shame — shame  independent 
of  the  sentiment  of  liberty,  but  already  the  germ  of 
remorse.  To  my  own  thought  as  judge,  I  answer  in 
a  certain  measure  for  all  the  bad  in  me,  even  when 
I  myself  did  not  put  it  there,  because  my  thought 
judges  me.  Besides,  monstrosity  produces  the  sense 
of  absolute  and  definite  solitude^  which  is  most  painful 
to  an  essentially  social  being,  because  solitude  is  a 
moral  sterility,  an  incurable  impotence. 

In  these  days  remorse  may  sometimes  torment  the 
hearts  of  men  in  proportion  to  their  very  elevation 
and  the  scruples  of  a  higher  conscience ;  but  this  is 
the  exception  and  not  the  rule.  Exceptions  are 
explained  by  the  fact  that  moral,  like  all  other  pro- 
gress, tends  to  disturb  the  equilibrium  between  the 
being  and  its  environment ;  all  premature  superiority 
then  becomes  a  cause  of  suffering ;  but  this  provisional 
disturbance  of  the  primitive  equilibrium  will  some  day 
issue  in  a  more  perfect  equilibrium.  The  beings  whose 
lot  it  is  to  serve  as  transitions  in  nature  suffer  in  order 
that  the  total  sufferings  of  the  race  may  be  diminished 
— they  are  the  scape-goats  of  the  species.  They 
bring  us  nearer  the  still  distant  time  —  the  ideal 
limit,  impossible  of  complete  attainment — when  the 
sentiments  of  sociability,  having  become  the  very 
basis  of  every  being,  would  be  powerful  enough  to 


POWER   BEGETTING   DUTY.  77 

proportion  the  quality  and  quantity  of  its  internal 
pleasures  to  its  morality,  which  again  is  identical 
with  its  sociability.  The  individual  consciousness 
would  then  so  exactly  reproduce  the  social  conscious- 
ness that  every  action  capable  of  deranging  the  latter 
would  derange  the  former  in  the  same  ratio ;  every 
shadow  cast  outside  of  us  would  be  projected  on  us  ; 
the  individual  would  feel  the  life  of  society  as  a  whole 
in  his  own  heart.  In  a  word,  we  think  of  the  species^ 
we  think  of  the  conditions  under  which  life  is  possible 
to  the  species^  we  conceive  the  existence  of  a  certain 
normal  type  of  man  adapted  to  these  conditions,  we 
even  conceive  of  the  life  of  the  whole  species  as  adapted 
to  the  worlds  and  in  fact  the  conditions  under  which 
that  adaptation  is  maintained.  On  the  other  hand, 
our  individual  intellect  being  nothing  but  the  human 
race — and  even  the  world — become  conscious  in  us,  it 
is  the  race  and  the  world  which  tend  to  act  by  us.  In 
the  mirror  of  thought  every  beam  radiated  by  things 
is  transformed  into  a  movement.  We  know  the 
perfection  to  which  the  pendulum  has  been  recently 
brought,  so  that  each  of  its  tiny  and  almost  imper- 
ceptible oscillations  are  self-registered  ;  at  each  tick 
a  ray  of  light  passes  through  it ;  this  ray  is  trans- 
formed into  a  force  and  presses  a  spring ;  the  motion 
of  the  pendulum,  without  losing  any  force  by  friction, 
is  then  betrayed  to  the  eyes  by  other  movements,  is 
fixed  by  visible  and  permanent  marks.  This  is  a 
symbol  of  what  is  going  on  in  the  living  and  thinking 
being,  in  which  the  rays  sent  by  the  universe  of 
objects  pass  through  the  thought  to  register 
themselves  in  acts  in  which  each  of  the  oscilla- 
tions of  individual  life  leaves  behind  it  a  reflex 
of  the  universal ;  life,  tracing  out  in  time  and  space 


78         EDUCATION  AND  HEREDITY. 

its  own  internal  history,  traces  out  in  time  and 
space  the  history  of  the  world,  thereby  indirectly 
visible. 

Once  conceived,  the  type  of  possible  normal  man 
is  actualised  more  or  less  in  us.  From  the  purely 
mechanical  point  of  view,  we  have  seen  that  the 
possible  is  but  an  elementary  adaptation  to  an  environ- 
ment which  permits  us,  as  the  mean  resultant  of  a 
certain  number  of  modifications,  to  re-adapt  ourselves 
to  other  slightly  varying  environments.  From  the  point 
of  view  of  the  consciousness,  the  possible  is  the  sense 
of  analogy  in  circumstances  which  calls  for  analogous 
acts ;  thus  the  intelligent  man  conceives  his  possible 
line  of  conduct  to  others  ex  analogia  with  his  own 
conduct  towards  himself;  he  thinks  he  can  assuage 
another's  hunger  in  the  same  way  as  his  own,  etc. 
Altruism,  in  more  than  one  point,  is  thus  conceived 
by  the  means  of  egoism  itself.  Every  consciousness 
of  an  analogy  which  satisfies  the  intellect  opens  a  new 
direction  for  activity,  and  activity  tends  to  hasten 
along  the  track.  There  is  therefore  no  need  to  look 
for  a  rule  outside  human  nature  conscious  of  itself 
and  its  type.  Consciousness  and  knowledge  neces- 
sarily have  a  directing  and  regulating  function.  To 
understand  is  to  measure.  All  that  is  really  con- 
scious tends  to  become  normal  Moral  obligation  is 
the  force  inherent  in  the  idea  approaching  most  closely 
to  the  universal,  in  the  idea  of  the  normal  to  us  and  to 
all  beings »  Since,  in  fact,  the  conscious  idea  derives 
most  of  its  power  from  its  very  generality,  the  idea-force 
would  be  par  excellence  that  of  the  universal^  if  the 
generality  were  conceived  in  a  concrete  manner  as 
representing  a  totality  of  social  conditions.  This  idea 
we  call  the  good,  and  in  ultimate  analysis  it  is  the 


POWER   BEGETTING   DUTY.  79 

highest  object  of  morality.     Hence  it  appears  to  us 
obligatory. 

Moral  obligation  has  nothing  resembling  external 
restraint,  and  in  fact  it  is  not  a  discharge  of  mechanical 
force,  it  is  not  a  violent  impulse  in  this  or  that 
direction.  When  I  say : — "  I  am  morally  com- 
pelled to  this  or  that  act,"  I  mean  something  quite 
different  from : — "  I  cannot  help  doing  it."  It 
would  seem  then  that  the  sentiment  of  obligation 
escapes  from  the  domain  of  mental  dynamics ; 
it  is,  however,  as  we  have  just  seen,  the  mental  state 
into  which  enter  into  play  manifold  springs  of  every 
kind,  in  which  the  internal  dynamics  of  idea-forces 
are  most  intelligent  and  complex,  although  to  the 
spectator  from  without  the  voluntary  act  is  precisely 
the  most  contingent.  And  thus  we  come  to  under- 
stand this  phenomenon,  so  often  a  subject  of  wonder 
to  psychologists,  that  the  ideas  which  appear  to  us 
the  most  obligatory  are  precisely  those  least  urgently 
imposed  upon  us  by  the  brute  force  of  physical 
necessities.^ 

It  follows  from  the  preceding  considerations  that 
education  ought  to  make  it  its  main  duty  to  establish 
a  classification  of  ideas,  a  hierarchy  giving  the 
first  place  to  the  most  typical  and  universal  ideas, 
incessantly  placing  before  the  child's  eyes  as  a  pattern 

^  It  will  be  observed  that  in  this  theory  the  intellect  and  activity  no 
longer  appear  to  be  separated  by  an  abyss.  In  my  Esquisse  d*une 
Morale  I  think  I  have  shown  that  there  is  no  necessity  to  invoke  the 
intervention  of  an  extraneous  pleasure,  no  need  of  a  middle  term  or 
bridge  to  pass  from  one  to  the  other  of  the  two  things — thought, 
action.  They  are  at  bottom  identical.  And  what  is  called  moral 
obligation  or  constraint  is,  in  the  sphere  of  the  intellect,  the  sense  of 
this  radical  identity ;  obligation  is  an  internal  expansion,  a  need  for 
completing  our  ideas  by  making  them  pass  into  action.  Morality  is 
the  unity  of  the  being. 


80         EDUCATION  AND  HEREDITY. 

the  ideal  of  the  species  and  of  normal  man.  We 
know  we  must  proportion  the  ideal  to  the  child's  age : 
the  individual,  alike  from  the  moral  and  physical 
point  of  view,  passes  anew  through  the  different 
stages  of  evolution  ;  it  cannot  therefore  attain  in  a 
moment  a  degree  of  ripe  civilisation.  There  is  even  a 
danger,  as  Spencer  says,  in  excess  of  moral  precocity 
as  in  excess  of  intellectual  precocity.  To  demand 
too  much  from  a  child  is  to  expose  oneself  to  the 
danger  of  exhausting  prematurely  will  and  intellect 
alike.  "You  cannot  put  an  old  head  on  young 
shoulders?"  Parents  should  be  the  more  inclined 
to  indulgence  for  the  faults  of  their  children,  since 
those  faults  are  usually  attributable  by  heredity 
to  the  parents  themselves,  if  they  are  not  attributable 
to  their  mismanagement  as  educators. 

3rd.  So  far  we  have  considered  the  formation  of 
moral  obligation  as  the  result  of  individual  evolution. 
I  think  that  in  the  genesis  of  moral  obligation  it  is 
best  to  first  consider,  as  we  have  done  from  an 
abstract  point  of  view,  the  evolution  of  the  conscious- 
ness in  the  individual — i.e.^  in  a  restricted  and  more  or 
less  complete  society,  for  to  repeat  what  I  have  said 
before,  in  the  eyes  of  modern  science  the  individual 
himself  is  a  society.  We  thus  avoid  the  exag- 
geration into  which  so  many  have  fallen :  the 
mistake  of  absorbing  the  individual  consciousness 
into  the  social ;  of  the  exclusive  reduction  of  moral 
tendencies  to  social ;  of  believing  that  the  combina- 
tion of  individuals  has  succeeded  in  bringing  to  light 
ideas  and  sentiments  which  did  not  already  exist  in 
embryo  in  each  taken  singly.  Selection,  according  to 
Darwin  the  dominant  law  of  social  combinations,  is 
in  fact  only  the  development  and  triumph  of  some 


POWER   BEGETTING   DUTY.  8l 

internal  capacity  generated  by  individual  evolution 
itself;  this  capacity  is  prolonged  in  the  species  rather 
than  created  by  natural  or  sexual  selection.  The 
English  are  therefore  wrong  in  identifying  morality 
too  absolutely  with  the  social  instinct ;  in  actual 
practice  no  doubt  it  becomes  fused  with  it,  but 
reality  does  not  exhaust  every  possibility.  Besides, 
it  is  not  always  the  fact  that  morality  consists 
in  the  pursuit  of  a  directly  social  purpose ;  progress 
seems  to  multiply  among  us  the  search  for  ends 
which  only  very  indirectly  satisfy  our  emotional 
instincts ;  we  devote  ourselves  to  science,  or  to  a 
hazardous  undertaking,  or  to  a  work  of  art,  for  their 
own  sakes.  Wherever  there  is  such  a  devotion,  such 
an  exclusive  pursuit  of  any  end,  even  if  illusory,  we 
cannot  deny  that  there  is  an  expression  of  moral  effort, 
although  this  effort  is  exercised  independently  of  the 
social  instincts  of  the  race.  Moral  fecundity  in  a 
measure  overlaps  human  society.  In  fact,  we  must 
not  believe  that  the  instinctive  and  hereditary  senti- 
ment fixed  by  natural  selection  creates  and  explains 
in  every  detail  the  action  of  the  individual.  On  the 
contrary,  it  often  happens  that  accumulated  activity 
has  created  a  corresponding  sentiment.  The  social 
sentiment  springs  from  the  very  nature  of  our  organs, 
which  have  been  fashioned  by  our  antecedent  actions  ; 
power  has  preceded  the  sense  of  duty.  We  have  not 
hands  because  we  are  charitable;  we  are  charitable 
and  we  hold  out  our  hands  to  others  because  we  have 
hands.  But  if  it  be  true  that  the  individual  might 
have  spontaneously  formed  for  himself  an  embryonic 
moral  obligation,  it  is  equally  true  that  moral  obliga- 
tion assumes  an  entirely  new  aspect  when  we  consider 
it  from  the  social  point  of  view,  when  we  take  into 

6 


82  EDUCATION   AND  HEREDITY. 

account  the  new  views  of  existing  physiology 
on  the  subject  of  the  constant  action  and  reaction 
of  nervous  systems  on  each  other.  We  then  under- 
stand much  better,  not  only  the  direction  in  which 
the  moral  sense  is  urging  us  now,  but  also  its 
internal  character,  the  secret  of  its  energy ;  finally, 
and  especially,  we  understand  the  increasing  import- 
ance it  will  assume  in  us  as  education  comes  into 
play. 

From  this  new  point  of  view,  moral  obligation 
appears  to  be  a  direct  inter-action,  conscious  or  un- 
conscious, of  nervous  systems  on  each  other,  and 
in  general  of  life  on  life ;  it  is  reducible  to  a 
deep  sense  of  solidarity.  To  feel  ourselves  morally 
obliged  is,  in  fact,  in  most  cases,  to  feel  ourselves 
obliged  to  others,  bound  to  others,  having  solidarity 
with  others.  If  with  Darwin  we  exclusively  attri- 
bute the  origin  of  moral  obligation  to  certain  deter- 
minate social  tendencies,  we  may  recognise  in  man, 
as  in  every  organism,  a  social  bast's^  identical  on  the 
whole  with  the  moral  basis.  In  scientific  analysis 
the  individual  is  resolved  into  more  than  one — 
i.e.y  into  a  society;  the  physiological  individual  is  a 
society  of  cellules,  the  psychological  individual  is  a  col- 
lective consciousness.  Moral  obligation  is  therefore 
resolved  into  a  solidarity — either  the  intra-organic 
solidarity  of  several  cellules,  or  the  extra-organic 
solidarity  of  social  individuals.  Morality  being 
a  harmony  and  an  internal  determinism,  is  in  this 
sense,  within  the  limits  of  the  individual,  a  social 
phenomenon  ;  for  every  determination  springing  from 
the  depths  of  our  being  is  the  result  of  the  reciprocal 
action  of  the  cellules  and  elementary  consciousnesses 
which  constitute   us.     These  principles  granted,  we 


POWER  BEGETTING  DUTY.  83 

can  understand  how  a  certain  duty  is  created  by  the 
increasing  fusion  of  the  sensibilities,  and  by  the  more 
and  more  social  character  of  the  higher  pleasures 
which  every  day  take  a  larger  share  in  human  life, — 
aesthetic  pleasures,  the  pleasures  of  reasoning,  under- 
standing, learning,  seeking,  etc.  These  pleasures 
make  fewer  demands  on  external  conditions,  and  are 
much  more  accessible  to  all  than  pleasures  properly 
egoistic.  They  are  simultaneously  deeper,  more 
intimate,  and  more  inexpensive  (without  being 
always  completely  so).  They  tend  much  less  to 
make  a  line  of  demarcation  between  individuals  than 
do  inferior  pleasures.^  The  conscious  solidarity  of 
the  sensibilities  tends  therefore  to  establish  a  moral 
solidarity  between  men.  There  are  in  the  social 
being  normal  sufferings  and  joys  multiplied  between 
individuals  by  the  phenomena  of  induction.  These 
are,  so  to  speak,  symphonic  pleasures — choirs  chanting 
within  us. 

Whatever  development  the  fusion  of  sensibilities 
may  thus  acquire  by  sympathy  and  altruism,  we  may, 
it  is  true,  always  maintain  that  there  is  no  real 
disinterestedness  in  it,  but  a  transformation  of  the 
primitive  instinct  of  life,  which  is  "  the  bias  in  one's 
own  favour."  And  to  prove  an  action  is  disinterested, 
it  is  not  enough  to  show  it  has  no  interested  motive. 
Rochefoucauld  has,  by  subtle  but  necessarily  inexact 
analyses,  traced  every  action  to  interested  motives ; 
he  has  tried  to  explain  the  most  spontaneous  acts  of 
sensibility  by  intellectual  calculation.  It  was  a  serious 
mistake — due  to  the  imperfection  of  physiological  and 

^  This  point  I  have  developed  in  my  Moru  "  Epicure  et  ses  Rapports 
avec  les  Doctrines  Conte?nporaineSf  and  latei  ..1  my  Esquisse  d'une 
Morale, 


84  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

natural  science  in  that  age.  Ideas  ^  are  not  the  sole 
motives  in  an  action  ;  feelings  must  be  taken  into 
account.  Now  everything  is  changed  if  the  new- 
datum  of  feeling  is  introduced  among  causes  pro- 
ducing acts.  The  noblest  devotion,  in  which  no 
interested  motive  can  be  found,  may  be  referred  to 
the  promptings  of  emotion  ;  and  sympathy  is  straight- 
way added  to  what  Pascal  calls  ^^ pente  vers  sot" — 
bias  in  one's  own  favour;  according  to  the  utili- 
tarians, altruism  completes  but  does  not  radically 
transform  egoism.  Man  is  an  intelligent  and  social 
animal;  this  is  the  most  accurate  definition,  into 
which,  say  the  utilitarians,  it  is  useless  to  introduce 
the  element  of  disinterested  liberty  :  nature  is  enough, 
the  fatality  of  instinct  replaces  free  impulse.  If  some- 
times we  think  ourselves  freely  disinterested,  it  is 
because  we  only  consider  ourselves  from  an  external 
point  of  view  ;  where  we  no  longer  see  the  conscious 
and  refined  calculation  of  Rochefoucauld,  we  think  we 
have  discovered  something  extraordinary  and  supra- 
sensible  :  liberty  and  disinterestedness  !  But  instead  of 
looking  for  an  explanation  above  the  intellect  in  an 
incomprehensible  free  will,  look  beneath  the  intellect 
and  you  will  find  it  in  sentiment.  Letting  ourselves 
be  carried  away  by  sympathy,  we  calculate  no  longer, 
but  it  is  nature  which  has  calculated  for  us :  nature 
urges  us  gently  towards  others,  so  gently  that  we 
think  we  are  walking  alone,  like  a  child  who  is  held 
by  its  mother  when  taking  its  first  steps,  and  who,  not 
seeing  the  hand  that  holds  it,  but  feeling  the  force 
supporting  it,  already  imagines  that  its  legs  move 
nimbly  of  themselves. 

This  is  how  the  partisans  of  fundamental  egoism 

^  Vide  note,  p.  62. 


POWER   BEGETTING   DUTY.  8$ 

reason.  Into  the  discussion  of  this  problem  the 
author  of  Systhnes  de  Morale  Conternporaine  has 
introduced  a  new  element  of  supreme  importance — 
the  influence  of  the  idea.  Even  though  our  nature 
ignored  true  and  free  affection,  should  we  ignore  what 
might  be  called  the  appearance  of  affection  ?  By  no 
means.  Then  again  let  us  assume  for  the  sake  of 
argument  the  hypothesis  of  radical  egoism.  There 
exists  in  all  beings  a  certain  number  of  tendencies 
which  are  neither  more  nor  less  inevitable  than  others, 
but  which  have  reference  to  other  persons,  and  are 
called  altruistic.  These  tendencies  will  naturally  exist 
in  each  of  us,  and  will  tend  to  bring  us  closer  together. 
We  shall  then  try  to  outrun  them,  urged  from  within 
by  an  emotional  prompting,  but  from  without  having 
the  appearance  of  being  moved  by  a  moral  idea.  Well, 
is  not  that  a  great  deal  ?  If  I  see  one  of  my  com- 
panions stretch  out  his  hand,  and,  to  use  Kant's 
expression,  make  as  if  he  loved  me,  I  shall  clearly 
become  the  sport  of  an  inevitable  and  beneficent 
illusion ;  I  shall  see  him  without  any  apparent 
motive  of  interest  drawn  towards  me  by  all  the 
outward  signs  of  affection :  I  shall  then  conceive 
his  acts  as  free  from  every  egoistic  object,  and 
at  the  same  time  as  having  myself  for  their  end : 
this  is  the  idea  of  love.  I  shall  believe  I  am  loved, 
and  even  though  the  being  who  appears  to  love 
me  should  act  at  bottom  from  inevitable  instinct, 
I  shall  imagine  his  action  is  free.  How  could  it  be 
otherwise  ?  I  do  not,  by  hypothesis,  know  enough 
physiology  to  distinguish  in  what  seems  to  be  the 
entirely  spontaneous  and  entirely  pure  affection 
another  being  appears  to  have  for  me,  what  part  is 
played    by    the    egoistic     instincts     inherent    in    his 


S6  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

organisation.  When  I  cannot  attribute  to  one  of  my 
companions  any  interested  motives,  it  will  not  occur 
to  me  to  seek  in  his  organisation  the  hidden  cause  of 
his  action.  Whether  then  I  am  deceived,  or  whether, 
on  the  other  hand,  I  see  further  than  men  of  science 
themselves,  I  shall  believe  I  feel  a  heart  and  a  volition 
where  there  may  only  be  wheels  and  a  machine ;  I 
shall  acquire  the  pure  idea  of  love.  Now,  once 
acquired,  what  will  this  idea  not  produce  ?  When  I 
see  a  fellow-man  making  friendly  advances  to  me, 
I  revolt  at  the  thought  of  remaining  cold  and  in- 
sensible to  that  affection,  of  remaining  amiable 
externally  alone,  amiable  in  what  is  not  me,  by 
a  kind  of  deceit.  I  wish  to  be  worthy  of  being 
loved ;  I  wish  to  deserve  the  affection  shown  me ;  I 
wish  the  appearance  of  some  one  loving  me  to  become 
a  reality,  and,  as  Socrates  said,  I  wish  to  be  what  I 
seem.  But  how  can  I  become  amiable  if  not  by 
loving?  How  can  I  respond  to  affection  if  not  by 
affection  ?  My  personality  therefore  unfolds  itself, 
and  tends  to  complete  itself  in  a  love  more  and  more 
approaching  real  love. 

Thus  the  only  two  faculties  philosophers  have  left 
us — the  intellect  and  sensibility — quite  naturally  give 
rise  to  the  idea  of  will  guided  by  love.  We  have 
reached  this  idea  by  what  may  seem  a  circuitous 
route,  but  it  is  none  the  less  natural  for  that ;  for,  in 
a  word,  how  does  the  child  learn  to  love  ?  Is  it  not 
because  it  sees  it  is  loved  ?  Can  we  say  that  in  the 
child  love  is  natural  and  innate,  and  not  a  work  of 
education  ?  The  first  movements  of  the  child  express 
nothing  but  the  e£-o,  its  sensations  and  passions, 
cries  of  joy  or  pain  ;  and  later,  with  the  sentiment 
of  personality,  cries  of  anger.     But  seeing  around  it 


POWER   BEGETTING   DUTY.  8/ 

the  tenderest  love  manifested  by  the  most  palpable 
signs,  feeling  or  believing  itself  to  be  loved,  the  child 
at  length  wishes  in  some  measure  to  deserve  this 
love,  therefore  it  attempts  to  stammer  a  response  to 
so  many  reiterated  appeals.  Through  seeing  others 
smile,  the  child  smiles.  How  long  it  took  to  produce 
this  first  manifestation  of  love  !  We  think  it  natural, 
spontaneous  ;  who  knows  all  the  accumulated  efforts, 
the  perseverance,  the  will,  that  the  child  had  to  exert 
to  bring  into  the  light  of  day  that  wonderful  smile, 
already  the  faint  sketch  of  disinterestedness  ?  Follow 
with  the  eye  the  moral  life  of  the  child  reflected 
on  its  face :  you  will  see  the  preliminary  sketch 
filled  in  with  countless  shades  and  colours ;  but 
how  slowly!  No  painting  of  Raphael  ever  cost  so 
much  effort.  The  child  is  naturally  egoistic ;  all  for 
it,  as  little  as  possible  for  others.  Only  by  receiving 
first  does  it  end  in  giving;  love,  which  seems  its 
nature,  is  on  the  contrary  an  impulse  above  its 
nature,  an  enlargement  of  its  personality.  In  this 
sense  we  may  say  with  the  greatest  truth,  it  seems 
to  me,  that  love  is  in  the  first  place  gratitude ;  it  is 
the  sentiment  of  response  to  benefits  received,  and 
as  it  were  an  effort  to  deserve  the  boon  conferred. 
It  seems  as  if  the  first  act  of  gratitude  were  an  act 
of  faith :  I  believe  in  the  benefit ;  I  believe  in  the 
good  intention  of  the  benefactor.  From  signs  of 
love  in  its  parents  the  child  infers  the  reality 
of  their  love  for  it ;  man,  in  the  presence  of  his 
fellows,  draws  the  same  deduction.  Just  as  the  idea 
of  liberty  determines  us  to  act  as  if  we  were  free, 
the  idea  of  love  invites  us  to  act  as  if  others  loved 
us,  and  as  if  we  really  loved  them.  This  idea,  by 
which  egoism   is   transformed   into  altruism,  is  like 


88         EDUCATION  AND  HEREDITY. 

the  force  which,  in  a  locomotive,  reverses  the  steam 
and  makes  the  engine  run  in  an  opposite  direction. 

Education  consists  in  favouring  this  expansion 
towards  others,  instead  of  favouring  forces  of  attrac- 
tion to  oneself  It  teaches  how  to  find  pleasure  in 
the  pleasure  of  others,  and  so  how  to  make  a  choice 
among  pleasures;  to  prefer  the  highest  and  most 
impersonal  enjoyments,  and  ipso  facto  those  which 
involve  the  longest  duration,  and  are,  as  it  were, 
unending. 

The  preceding  analyses  issue  in  the  conclusion 
that  to  be  moral  is,  in  the  first  place,  to  feel  the 
force  of  our  will,  and  the  multiplicity  of  the  powers 
inherent  in  our  being ;  in  the  second  place,  to  realise 
the  superiority  of  those  possibilities  having  for  their 
object  what  is  universal  over  those  with  merely 
private  objects.  The  revelation  of  duty  is  at  the 
same  time  the  revelation  of  a  power  which  is  inherent 
in  us,  and  of  a  possibility  extending  to  the  largest 
group  of  beings  who  come  within  the  sphere  of  our 
activity.  Something  infinite  may  be  seen  in  and 
through  the  limits  imposed  upon  us  by  individual 
obligation ;  and  this  infinity  has  nothing  mystical  about 
it  In  duty  we  feel  and  experience,  as  Spinoza  says,  that 
our  personality  is  always  capable  of  further  develop- 
ment, that  we  are  infinite  to  ourselves,  that  our  surest 
object  of  activity  is  what  is  universal.  The  sense  of 
obligation  is  not  attached  to  an  isolated  tendency 
in  proportion  to  its  intensity  alone,  but  in  proportion 
to  its  "generality,  to  its  expansive  force  and  associa- 
tive power.  That  is  why  the  obligatory  character  of 
the  tendencies  essential  to  human  nature  increase  in 
proportion  as  they  are  separated  from  the  simple 
necessity  inherent  in  the  coarser  functions  of  the  body. 


POWER   BEGETTING   DUTY.  89 

To  sum  up,  we  have  marked  out  the  three  following 
stages  in  the  development  of  the  moral  instinct : — 

1.  Mechanical  impulsion,  only  momentarily  appear- 
ing in  the  consciousness  to  be  there  translated  into 
blind  propensities  and  unreasoned  sentiments. 

2.  An  impulse,  checked  but  not  destroyed,  tending 
ipso  facto  to  invade  the  consciousness,  and  to  be  there 
incessantly  translated  into  a  sentiment,  and  to  produce 
a  permanent  obsession. 

3.  An  idea-force.  The  moral  sense  grouping  around 
it  an  increasing  number  of  sentiments  and  ideas, 
becomes  not  only  a  centre  of  emotion,  but  an  object 
of  self-conscious  reflection.  Then  obligation  springs 
into  being ;  it  is  a  kind  of  reasoned  obsession — an 
obsession  strengthened  and  not  dissolved  by  reflec- 
tion. To  gain  consciousness  of  moral  duties  is  to 
gain  consciousness  of  inner  and  higher  powers  which 
are  developing  in  us  and  urging  us  to  action ;  of  ideas 
tending  by  their  own  force  to  realise  themselves;  of 
sentiments  which,  by  their  very  evolution,  tend  to 
socialise  themselves,  to  impregnate  themselves  with 
all  the  sensibility  present  in  humanity  and  in  the 
universe. 

In  a  word,  moral  obligation  is  twofold  conscious- 
ness: 1st,  of  the  power  and  of  the  fecundity  of  higher 
idea-forces,  unified  by  their  common  object — the 
universal ;  2nd,  of  the  resistance  of  contrary 
and  egoistic  propensities.  The  tendency  of  life  to 
the  maximum  of  intensity  and  expansion  is  the 
elementary  volition ;  the  phenomena  of  irresistible 
impulse,  of  simple  and  permanent  obsession,  and, 
finally,  of  moral  obligation,  are  the  result  of  the 
conflicts  or  the  harmony  of  that  elementary  volition 
with  all   the  other  propensities  of  the  human  mind. 


go  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

The  reconciliation  of  these  conflicts  is  nothing  but 
the  search  for  and  recognition  of  the  normal  pro- 
pensity which  includes  in  us  most  auxiliary  propen- 
sities, which  has  been  associated  with  the  greatest 
number  of  our  other  permanent  tendencies.  In  other 
words,  it  is  the  search  for  that  propensity  which  is 
at  once  the  most  complex  and  the  most  persistent 
Now  these  are  the  characteristics  of  the  tendency  to 
the  universal.  Moral  action  is  therefore  like  the  sound 
awakening  in  us  most  harmonics,  vibrations  at  once 
the  richest  and  the  most  permanent. 

The  consciousness  of  the  impulsive  force  which 
belongs  to  the  higher  motives  only  reaches  its  full 
strength,  we  must  clearly  understand,  when  once  it 
has  been  disobeyed.  The  moral  instincts,  in  fact, 
reappear  after  the  action  all  the  stronger  for  the  very 
resistance  they  have  momentarily  experienced.  Thus 
is  produced  the  sentiment  of  remorse.  This  senti- 
ment does  not  imply  the  notion  of  absolute  liberty ; 
it  presupposes  the  consciousness  of  the  determinism 
which  links  our  present  to  our  past.  If  we  had  a 
keen  enough  sense  of  absolute  liberty,  if  we  thought 
we  could  completely  renew  ourselves  by  a  single 
act  of  will,  if  we  had  not  a  vague  fear  that,  in  our 
being,  each  of  our  resolutions  is  implicit  in  the  rest, 
and  that  the  one  issues  from  the  other,  the  word 
"peccavi"  would  not  have  so  profoundly  sorrowful 
a  character,  for  it  would  rather  imply  a  past 
imperfection,  but  it  would  not  imply  an  actual 
or  future  imperfection.  Responsibility  is  not  merely 
causality,  but  also  solidarity ;  I  must  feel  myself 
linked  with  something  bad  or  repugnant,  as  if  a 
blamable  act  were  a  part  of  me,  before  I  experience 
that  regret  and  shame  which  are  the  beginning  of 


POWER   BEGETTING  DUTY.  9I 

remorse.  An  act  accomplished  by  me  with  the  best 
intentions  in  the  world,  but  of  which  the  issue  has 
been  unfortunate  in  spite  of  every  possible  prevision, 
will  still  leave  me  a  prey  to  a  kind  of  internal  torture, 
a  regret  for  intellectual  imperfection,  not  without 
analogy  to  regret  for  moral  imperfection.  A  father 
is  as  pleased  at  his  son^s  good  action  as  if  he  had 
done  it  himself,  even  when  he  has  had  nothing  to 
do  with  the  boy's  education ;  if,  on  the  other  hand, 
the  lad  behaves  badly,  the  father  will  suffer  and 
experience  a  remorse  often  keener  than  that  of  the 
culprit  himself.  Further,  an  act  committed  by  a 
stranger,  which  we  have  witnessed  without  being 
able  to  prevent  it,  produces  in  us,  if  we  have  a  well- 
developed  and  very  delicate  morality,  an  internal 
laceration,  a  sorrow  analogous  to  remorse,  and  we 
feel  as  if  the  consequences  of  the  act  must  partly 
fall  upon  ourselves.  After  all,  there  is  some  part  of 
us  in  other  men,  and  it  is  not  without  good  reason 
that  we  feel  ourselves  degraded  in  our  own  eyes  by 
whatever  degrades  humanity.  In  a  word,  responsi- 
bility seems  far  from  being,  as  Kant  thought,  outside 
time  and  space,  in  the  sphere  of  pure  liberty  and 
the  pure  noumenon ;  on  the  contrary,  it  seems  to  be 
in  both  time  and  space,  linked  with  the  thousand 
associations  of  ideas  which  constitute  the  phenomenal 
ego.  It  is  for  the  rriost  part  explained  by  the 
solidarity,  the  contiguity  and  continuity  of  beings. 
Accordingly,  responsibility  may  pass  from  one  being 
to  another.  We  may  have,  so  to  speak,  remorse 
for  others;  we  may  also  rejoice  in  others ;  it  is  a  kind 
of  sympathy  or  antipathy  sometimes  exercised  by 
ourselves  to  ourselves,  sometimes  by  ourselves  to 
others.       If    the    sense    of    responsibility    extends 


92  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

especially  from  the  past  of  the  individual  to  his 
present  and  future,  it  is  perhaps  because  we  all 
feel,  sometimes  without  being  able  to  account 
for  it  to  ourselves,  the  deep  determinism  which 
connects  every  moment  of  our  individual  life;  we 
feel  that  all  within  us  is  linked  together :  the  past 
is,  as  it  were,  chained  to  us.  Moral  wounds,  there- 
fore, like  certain  cicatrices,  are  ever  painful,  because 
we  are  always  changing,  without,  however,  being 
able  to  renew  or  forget  ourselves,  and  because  an 
ever-increasing  contrast  is  drawn  between  what  we 
are  and  what  we  conceive  ourselves  to  be. 


IV.  Possible  Dissolution  of  Morality, 

After  the  genesis  of  morality,  it  is  appropriate  to 
say  a  few  words  on  its  possible  dissolution  in  the 
individual  and  in  society,  and  also  on  its  more  or 
less  diseased  stages  and  arrested  development.  It  is 
important  to  the  educator  to  be  able  to  recognise 
them,  and  to  know  how  to  determine  the  share  taken 
here  again  by  heredity,  and  the  influence  of  the 
internal  or  external  environment  respectively.  As 
in  the  case  of  physical  life,  moral  life  is  susceptible  of 
disease  or  dissolution,  and  in  this  dissolution  or 
arrested  development  of  morality  there  are  different 
degrees. 

1st.  Morality  purely  negative^  produced  by  the 
mutual  nullification  of  tendencies,  altruistic  or 
egoistic,  aesthetic  or  brutal,  etc.  This  neutral  moral- 
ity is  not  due  to  a  really  solid  organisation  of  the 
moral  instincts  formulated  into  a  rational  system  of 
idea-forces,  and  further,  it  is  necessarily  unstable  ;  it  is 


POSSIBLE   DISSOLUTION   OF   MORALITY.  93 

the  transitory  equilibrium  of  opposing  tendencies,  the 
morality  of  many  people,  whose  impulses  are  not 
sufficiently  strong  in  one  direction  or  the  other  to  be 
able  to  carry  them  very  far  from  the  normal  line. 

2nd.  Moral  arovta,  or  the  reign  of  caprices.  This  is 
an  exaggeration  of  the  former  state,  with  the  difference 
that  the  oscillations  towards  what  is  bad,  or  some- 
times towards  what  is  good,  have  more  amplitude, 
because  the  propensities  are  stronger.  This  state  is 
peculiar  to  the  impulsive  temperament  when  its 
orientation  is  not  referred  to  a  centre  of  idea-forces 
of  adequate  attractive  power.  The  impulsive  tempera- 
ment produces  a  large  number  of  criminals,  who  are 
not,  however,  necessarily  the  most  dangerous  ;  it  has 
even,  under  some  circumstances,  produced  heroes. 
Among  certain  individuals  moral  tendencies  exist, 
but  they  are  not  always  sufficiently  present,  and  may 
at  any  moment  give  place  to  opposite  tendencies. 
In  these  individuals  the  consciousness  is  unilateral, 
powerless  to  present  to  itself  two  opposite  directions 
of  action,  powerless  to  excite  in  itself  those  antagon- 
istic states  whose  presence  is  a  characteristic  of  the 
more  highly  developed  consciousness.  In  this  case 
the  lively  sense  of  obligation  disappears  at  the 
moment  of  the  act,  but  is  not  long  before  it  re- 
appears when  once  the  act  is  accomplished,  and  the 
tendency  abolished  which  produced  the  act.  Thus  in 
the  same  individual  we  may  see  states  of  absolute 
immorality  succeed  each  other,  to  be  followed  a  few 
hours  later  by  very  keen,  very  genuine,  but  always 
fruitless  remorse.  This  is  because  such  an  individual, 
gifted  with  an  impulsive  temperament,  is,  at  the 
moment  of  the  evil  impulse,  quite  incapable  of  elicit- 
ing the  contrary  impulse  with  sufficient  strength  to 


94  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

partially  paralyse  the  anterior  impulse.  The  anta- 
gonistic states  of  consciousness  are  realised  in  him 
successively,  instead  of  simultaneously;  he  is  not  a 
monster,  but  a  man  impotent  from  the  moral  point  of 
view ;  his  will  has  undergone  an  alteration  analogous 
to  that  produced  in  patients  afflicted  with  "  aboulia." 
The  latter  are  powerless  to  pass  from  the  conception 
of  an  act  to  its  consummation  ;  they  wish  to  go  out 
for  a  walk,  but  they  are  unable  to  do  so ;  desire  has 
not  in  them  the  determining  force  necessary  to  action. 
In  individuals  afflicted  in  some  degree  with  moral 
aboulia,  it  is  not  the  power  of  performing  the  act  that 
is  wanting,  but  the  power  of  representing  to  them- 
selves simultaneously  and  completely  the  ends  or  the 
feelings  which  determine  action.  In  the  internal 
balance  a  certain  number  of  weights  are  always  for- 
gotten, and  they  do  not  reappear  until  the  scale  is 
already  turned. 

3rd.  Moral  madness  —  i,e.^  the  intervention  of 
abnormal  impulses  (as,  for  example,  those  impelling 
children  to  destroy  for  the  sake  of  destroying,  to 
behave  badly  for  the  sake  of  doing  so,  to  immodest 
acts,  to  eat  their  own  excrement,  etc.).  These  more 
or  less  irresistible  abnormal  impulses  may  coexist 
with  the  normal  impulses,  and  with  remorse  for  the 
act  committed.  A  dipsomaniac  is  not  a  drunkard, 
nor  is  a  kleptomaniac  a  thief ;  a  pyromaniac  is  not  an 
incendiary,  nor  is  a  man  with  homicidal  mania  a 
genuine  assassin ;  the  former  protest  all  the  time 
against  the  actions,  and  sometimes  feel  horror  at 
them  ;  their  moral  sense  is  not  altered,  it  is  merely 
practically  impotent. 

4th.  Moral  idiocy — that  is  to  say,  the  total  or  partial 
absence  of  impulses,  altruistic,  intellectual,  aesthetic, 


POSSIBLE   DISSOLUTION   OF   MORALITY.  pS 

etc.  Moral  idiocy  is  never  met  with  in  the  complete 
state;  we  constantly  find  it,  however,  in  the  partial 
state :  how  many  children  and  men,  on  certain 
points  of  conduct,  remain  invincibly  dull !  In  others, 
altruism  is  entirely  wanting,  and  that  at  the  outset, 
without  their  having  to  undergo  a  preliminary  train- 
ing, as  in  the  case  of  professional  criminals.  Moral 
tendencies  may  be  almost  completely  wanting  in  an 
individual  ;  for  instance,  Maudsley  mentions  a  case  of 
a  minister  poisoning  his  wife  with  the  utmost  non- 
chalance, and  without  experiencing  the  least  inward 
repugnance  to  the  act.  In  these  extreme  cases  both 
the  actual  sentiment  of  obligation  during  the  act  and 
moral  remorse  after  it  are  wanting. 

5th.  Moral  depravity,  produced  by  normal  impulses 
of  abnormal  intensity  (anger,  vengeance,  etc.),  which 
become  grouped,  co-ordinated,  and  reasoned,  and 
which  counterbalance  —  and  sometimes  substitute 
themselves  for — the  moral  sense.  Then  is  produced 
not  a  primary  but  a  secondary  moral  idiocy;  it  marks 
the  last  stage  of  the  moral  dissolution,  because  it 
corresponds  to  an  evolution  of  sentiment-forces  and 
idea-forces  in  a  direction  contrary  to  the  normal  ;  it  is 
really  an  organisation  of  immorality.  Dostoieffsky 
says,  speaking  of  criminals  he  observed  in  Siberia  : — 
"  Not  the  least  sign  of  shame  or  repentance.  .  .  .  For 
several  years  I  never  noticed  the  least  sign  of  repent- 
ance, nor  the  least  uneasiness  for  a  crime  com- 
mitted. .  .  .  Certainly  vanity,  bad  example,  boasting, 
and  false  shame  were  there  in  plenty.  ...  It  seems  to 
me  that  in  so  many  years  I  ought  to  have  been  able 
to  seize  some  indication,  however  fugitive,  of  remorse 
or  moral  suffering.  I  noticed  positively  nothing  of 
the    kind."      M.     Garofalo    adds :  —  **  Their     moral 


g6  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

insensibility  is  such,  that  at  the  assizes  assassins 
who  have  confessed  do  not  recoil  before  the  most 
harrowing  descriptions  of  their  crimes  ;  they  exhibit 
a  complete  indifference  to  the  shame  with  which  their 
families  are  overwhelmed,  and  to  the  grief  of  their 
parents."^ 

Thus  the  moral  instinct,  instead  of  being  a  funda- 
mentally immutable  faculty  as  represented  to  us  by 
certain  schools,  is  a  complex  product  of  evolution, 
ipso  facto  subject  to  dissolution,  to  decadence,  and  to 
perfectibility  alike.  The  educator  should  have  before 
his  mind  this  character  of  the  moral  sense,  at  once  so 
elevated  and  up  to  a  certain  point  so  unstable.  Not 
only  individuals,  but  whole  races  are  moralised  or 
demoralised.  And  as  morality  is  a  condition  of  their 
progress — nay,  of  existence — they  rise  or  fall  in  life, 
they  are  victorious  or  vanquished  in  the  struggle 
for  existence,  according  as  they  have  enriched  or 
impoverished  their  treasure  of  hereditary  morality. 

Hence  the  morality  of  the  race,  together  with  its 
health  and  vigour,  must  be  the  principal  object  of 
education.  All  else  is  only  secondary.  Intellectual 
qualities,  for  example,  and  especially  knowledge, 
learning,  and  information,  are  much  less  important 
to  a  race  than  its  moral  and  physical  vigour.  Thus 
the  educator  never  ought  to  invert  the  hierarchy  of 
qualities  necessary  to  the  race  ;  he  must  never  forget 
that  the  strength  and  vitality  of  creeds  is  due  to  their 
moral  effect  upon  nations ;  and  that  the  more  their 
influence  declines,  the  more  necessary  it  becomes  to 
replace  it  by  all  moral  influences. 

^  Revue  Philosophique.,  March  1887,  p.  243. — On  pp.  126-132  of 
Maudsley's  Mind  and  Body  will  be  found  much  interesting  matter  on 
this  point. — Also  see  Ellis,  The  Criminal^  pp.  124-133.     (Tr.) 


THE  ROLE  OF  EDUCATION  AND  HEREDITY.  97 


V.   The  Role  of  Education  and  Heredity  in  the 
Moral  Sense, 

The  moral  sense  is,  as  I  have  pointed  out,  a  higher 
product  of  education,  in  the  widest  significance  of 
this  word,  which  embraces  the  whole  action  of  the 
physical  and  social  environment.  I  do  not  wish  to 
imply  that  morality  is  artificial  ;  but  merely  that  it  is 
a  second  nature  added  to  a  primitively  animal  nature 
by  the  action  and  reaction  of  our  faculties  and 
environment.  Man,  as  we  have  seen,  has  made  his 
own  moral  law  by  the  higher  powers  he  has  little 
by  little  acquired  in  the  process  of  evolution,  by 
an  education  partly  spontaneous,  partly  enforced, 
sometimes  individual,  sometimes  collective.  It  is 
obvious  that  heredity  also  has  its  rdle  in  the  genesis 
of  the  moral  instinct.  Let  us  then  proceed  to 
determine  the  respective  spheres  of  these  two 
influences. 

According  to  Wundt,  it  is  by  no  means  certain  that 
even  the  intuition  of  space  is  innate ;  in  all  cases 
the  simple  perceptions  of  the  senses  are  not  so,  in 
spite  of  their  constant  repetition  in  past  ages.  A 
man  born  blind  has  not  a  connate  perception  of  light, 
nor  has  a  man  born  deaf  a  connate  perception  of 
sound  ;  we  cannot  therefore  speak  of  "  innate  moral  < 
intuitions,"  which  would  presuppose  a  multitude  of 
very  complex  representations,  relative  to  the  agent 
himself  and  his  fellows,  and  referring  to  his  relation 
with  the  external  world.^  Doubtless  ;  but  we  do  not 
maintain  or  admit  the  existence  of  perfectly  preformed 
moral  intuitions,  and  Spencer  has  certainly  gone  too. 

1  Vide  Wundt's  Ethik,  p.  345. 


98  EDUCATION    AND   HEREDITY. 

,  far  in  that  direction.  A  tendency  is  not  an  intuition, 
and  it  is  certain  that  there  are  hereditary  tendencies, 
some  moral  and  others  immoral.  We  all  know  this, 
and  Darwin  has  shown  that  among  certain  wild  animals 
fear  has  become  hereditary.  For  instance,  when  the 
Falkland  Islands  were  first  visited  by  man,  the  large 
dog-wolf  (cams  antarcticus)  came  up  fearlessly  to 
Byron's  sailors.  Even  more  recently,  a  man  with 
a  piece  of  meat  in  one  hand  and  a  knife  in  the  other 
could  easily  cut  the  throats  of  these  creatures  in  the 
night.  In  an  island  on  the  Sea  of  Aral,  the  antelopes, 
generally  so  vigilant  and  timid,  instead  of  taking  to 
flight,  looked  at  man  as  a  kind  of  curiosity.  Originally, 
on  the  coasts  of  the  island  of  Maurice  the  sea-cow  had  no 
fear  of  man  ;^  and  the  same  was  the  case  with  the  phoca 
and  walrus  in  several  parts  of  the  globe.  The  birds  of 
certain  islands  have  acquired  but  slowly  (and  heredi- 
tarily) a  salutary  terror  at  the  sight  of  man.  In  the 
Galapagos  Archipelago,  Darwin  tells  us  he  could  push 
a  hawk  off  a  branch  with  the  barrel  of  his  gun,  and  he 
saw  birds  settle  on  a  pitcher  of  water  which  he  held 
out  for  them  to  drink  from.  There  is  in  this,  if  not 
an  intuition,  at  least  the  association  of  reflex  move- 
ments, and  almost  of  reflex  sentiments  with  a  repre- 
sentation— that  of  man.  Why  then  should  not  the 
representation  of  man,  by  hereditary  tendency,  excite 
in  man  himself  a  peculiar  pleasure,  and  an  inclination 
no  longer  of  flight,  but  to  approach,  speak,  be  helped, 
to  put  others  in  his  place  ?  When  a  child  falls  under 
the  wheels  of  a  carriage,  we  precipitate  ourselves  to 

^  The  Lamantin,  or  sea-cow  {Rhytina  Stelleri).  Vide  Weismann's 
Essays  on  Heredity,  edited  by  E.  B.  Poulton,  M.  A.  (Clarendon  Press, 
18S9),  note  on  p.  92,  where  serious  doubts  are  cast  upon  the  accuracy 
of  these  statements.     (Tr.) 


THE   RO'LE   OF   EDUCATION  AND   riEkli:DlTY.  ' '99 

its  rescue  by  an  almost  instinctive  movement,  just 
as  we  should  start  aside  from  a  precipice.  The 
image  of  others  is  thus  substituted  for  the  image  of 
ourselves.  In  the  scales  of  the  inner  balance,  /,  thou^ 
are  constantly  interchanged.  This  delicate  mechan- 
ism is  partly  produced  by  heredity.  Man  is  thus 
domesticated,  made  gentler,  and  more  civilised  ;  now 
he  is  partially  savage,  partially  civilised  or  civilisable. 
The  result  of  education  through  the  ages  is  thus  fixed 
in  heredity  itself,  and  this  is  one  of  the  proofs  of  the 
power  possessed  by  education,  if  not  always  for  the 
present,  at  least  for  the  future. 

We  are  also  familiar  with  cases  of  reversion 
and  atavism.  The  warlike  and  nomadic  instincts 
characterising  savage  life  persist  in  certain  civilised 
men  ;  it  is  difficult  for  certain  natures  to  adapt  them- 
selves to  the  complex  environment  resulting  from  the 
host  of  opinions  and  habits  we  call  civilisation.  We 
may  see  from  this,  says  M.  Ribot,  that  one  funda- 
mental element  in  primitive  savage  life  is  preserved 
and  reproduced  by  heredity.  Thus  the  taste  for  war 
is  one  of  the  most  generally  prevalent  sentiments 
among  savages  ;  with  them,  to  live  is  to  fight.  "  This 
instinct,  common  to  all  primitive  races,  has  not  been 
without  its  use  in  the  progress  of  humanity,  if,  as 
we  may  believe,  it  has  assured  the  triumph  of  the 
stronger  and  more  intellectual  races  over  those  less 
generously  endowed.  But  these  warlike  instincts, 
preserved  and  accumulated  by  heredity,  have  become 
the  cause  of  destruction,  carnage,  and  ruin.  After 
having  served  to  create  social  life,  they  are  no  longer 
of  any  use  but  to  destroy  it ;  after  having  made 
certain  the  triumph  of  civilisation,  they  then  only 
work  for  its  destruction.     Even  when  these  instincts 


100'        EDUCATION  AND  HEREDITY. 

are  not  bringing  two  nations  to  blows,  they  are 
manifested  in  ordinary  life,  in  certain  individuals,  by 
a  quarrelsome  and  combative  humour,  which  often 
leads  to  vengeance,  the  duel,  and  murder."^  The 
same  is  the  case  with  the  spirit  of  adventure :  savage 
races  possess  it  in  so  marked  a  degree  that  they 
plunge  into  the  unknown  with  the  carelessness  of 
children.  This  spirit  of  enterprise,  and  want  of  fore- 
sight, although  at  first  useful  enough  in  opening  up 
new  worlds  to  commerce,  travels,  science,  and  art,  has 
become  in  certain  individuals  a  source  of  futile  or 
ruinous  excitement,  the  only  excitement  permitted 
by  their  environment,  "such  as  the  passion  for  play, 
stock-jobbing,  and  intrigue,  or  the  egoistic  and  turbu- 
lent ambition  of  conquerors,  sacrificing  whole  nations 
to  their  caprices." ^  We  sometimes  see  reappear  in 
remote  descendants  the  old  instincts  of  the  race, 
lulled  or  latent  for  a  great  many  generations,  and 
manifested  as  an  inexplicable  reversion  to  the 
ancestral  moral  type.  The  higher  classes  of  society, 
who  are  more  in  evidence,  offer  us  striking  examples  ; 
as  if  the  leisure  and  independence  secured  to  them  by 
wealth,  depriving  them  of  the  influence  of  the  local 
environment,  and  of  the  present  conditions  of  life  of 
their  race,  set  at  liberty  "psychic  forces"  restrained 
in  their  contemporaries.  "Thus,"  says  Madame 
Royer,  "  we  sometimes  see  the  instinct  of  theft  not 
only  in  the  children  of  our  cultured  races,  where 
education  as  a  rule  corrects  it  at  an  early  period,  but 
we  sometimes  see  it  persist  in  adults,  and  by  its 
irresistible  power  draw  into  crimes,  barely  excusable 
from  their  obviously  inevitable  character,  the  women 
of    our   old    and    noble    houses,   who    are   thus   the 

1  Ribot,  LHirMitl  2  /^^-^ 


THE   ROLE  OF   EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY.     lOI 

melancholy   heiresses    of   the    old    instincts    of    our 
barbarian  conquerors."^ 

We  know  how  air,  climate,  the  configuration  of 
the  soil,  mode  of  life,  the  nature  of  food  and  drink, 
fashion  the  human  organism  by  their  incessant 
action;  how  these  latent  and  dull  sensations  which 
do  not  reach  so  far  as  the  consciousness,  but 
which    penetrate    incessantly   into    our    being,   form 

^  What  has  always  distinguished  the  savages  of  the  Philippines  from 
the  other  Polynesian  races  is  their  indomitable  passion  for  liberty.  In 
a  massacre  on  the  island  of  Luzon,  made  by  native  soldiers  under  the 
order  of  a  Spanish  officer,  a  little  black,  of  about  three  years  old,  was 
seized  by  the  troops  and  brought  to  Manilla.  An  American  obtained 
permission  from  the  government  to  adopt  him,  and  he  was  baptised 
under  the  name  of  Pedrito.  As  soon  as  he  was  old  enough,  efforts 
were  made  to  give  him  all  the  instruction  that  could  be  obtained  in 
that  remote  land.  The  old  residents  on  the  island,  knowing  the 
character  of  the  Negritos,  laughed  in  their  sleeves  at  the  attempts  made 
to  civilise  the  lad,  and  predicted  that  sooner  or  later  the  youth  would 
return  to  his  native  mountains.  Thereupon  his  adopted  father 
announced  that  he  would  take  Pedrito  to  Europe.  He  took  him  to 
Paris  and  London,  and  only  returned  after  two  years  of  travel.  On 
his  return,  Pedrito  spoke  Spanish,  French,  and  English,  with  all  the 
facility  with  which  the  black  races  are  gifted;  he  wore  thin  patent 
leather  boots,  and  "everybody  in  Manilla  still  remembers  the  grave 
manner,  worthy  of  any  gentleman,  with  which  he  received  the  first 
advances  of  those  who  had  not  been  introduced  to  him."  Two  years 
had  scarcely  elapsed  after  his  return  from  Europe,  when  he  disappeared 
from  the  house  of  his  patron.  Those  who  had  laughed  now  had  their 
hour  of  triumph.  It  would  probably  have  never  been  known  what  had 
become  of  the  adopted  child  of  the  philanthropic  Yankee,  if  a  European 
had  not  come  across  him  in  a  remarkable  way.  A  Prussian  naturalist, 
a  relative  of  the  celebrated  Humboldt,  resolved  to  make  the  ascent  of 
Mount  Mariveles,  a  mountain  not  far  from  Manilla.  He  had  almost 
reached  the  summit  of  the  peak  when  he  suddenly  saw  before  him 
a  swarm  of  little  blacks.  The  Prussian  prepared  to  sketch  a  few  faces, 
when  one  of  the  savages  came  forward  and  smiled,  and  asked  him  in 
English  if  he  knew  an  American  in  Manilla  of  the  name  of  Graham. 
It  was  our  Pedrito.  He  told  his  whole  story,  and  when  he  had  ended, 
the  naturalist  in  vain  endeavoured  to  persuade  him  to  return  with  him 
to  Manilla. — ^Vide  Revue  des  Detix-MondeSy  June  isth,  1869. 


102  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

in  the  long  run  "that  habitual  mode  of  the  con- 
stitution we  call  the  temperament."  The  influence 
of  education  is,  according  to  M.  Ribot,  analogous  to 
this ;  it  consists  in  a  moral  environment,  and  it  issues 
in  the  creation  of  a  habit  M.  Ribot  remarks  that  even 
this  moral  environment  is  as  complex,  heterogeneous, 
and  variable  as  any  physical  environment.  "  For 
education,"  he  says,  "  in  its  accurate  and  complete 
sense,  does  not  merely  consist  in  the  lessons  of  our 
parents  and  masters ;  manners,  religious  beliefs, 
letters,  conversations  heard  or  overheard,  are  so  many 
mute  influences  acting  on  the  mind  just  as  latent  per- 
ceptions act  on  the  body,  and  contributing  to  our  edu- 
cation— i.e.,  contributing  to  make  us  contract  habits." 
In  spite  of  this,  M.  Ribot  tries  to  restrict  the  influence 
of  education,  and  to  vindicate  anew  against  it  the 
claims  of  innate  tendencies : — "  For,"  says  he,  "  the 
cause  of  the  innate  tendency  is  in  ourselves."  He 
adds :  "  Whether  certain  psychic  qualities  spring  from 
spontaneous  variation  or  from  hereditary  transmis- 
sion, is  a  matter  for  our  present  purpose  of  small 
importance ;  what  we  must  be  shown  is,  that  they 
^are  pre-existent  to  education,  which  sometimes  trans- 
forms but  never  creates  them."  ' 
Why,  we  may  ask  M.  Ribot,  might  not  education 
create  certain  psychic  qualities  ?  The  words  to  create 
can  no  more  be  taken  absolutely  in  heredity  than  in 
education.  Heredity  does  not,  properly  speaking, 
create :  it  fixes  and  accumulates  certain  qualities, 
which  often  have  themselves  been  acquired  by  that 
education,  in  the  broad  sense  of  the  word,  which  M. 
Ribot  has  just  before  so  well  defined.  If  we  are  to 
believe  M.  Ribot,  the  opponents  of  heredity  have 
made  a  great  mistake  in  explaining  by  an  external 


THE  ROLE   OF   EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY.    I03 

cause,  by  education,  what  is  due  to  an  internal  cause, 
the  character  :  "  their  polemic  has  often  in  fact  con- 
sisted in  laying  down  this,  in  their  opinion,  decisive 
dilemma :  either  children  ought  not  to  resemble  their 
parents,  and  then  where  is  the  law  of  heredity  ?  or 
children  resemble  their  parents  morally,  and  then  why 
seek  any  other  cause  but  education  ?  Is  it  not  quite 
natural  that  a  painter  or  a  musician  should  teach  his 
art  to  his  son  ?  that  a  thief  should  train  his  child  to 
theft  ?  that  a  child  born  in  the  midst  of  debauchery 
should  be  tainted  by  its  environment?" 

In  my  opinion,  if  the  dilemma  of  which  M.  Ribot 
speaks  does  not  show  the  influence  of  education, 
it  shows  at  least  that  the  influence  of  heredity, 
in  countless  cases,  is  not  itself  demonstrable,  and 
that  in  the  majority  of  cases  it  is  not  possible  to 
draw  the  line  of  demarcation  between  the  two 
influences. 

Gall  has  clearly  shown  that  those  faculties  existing 
in  all  individuals  of  the  same  race,  exist  in  different 
individuals  in  very  different  degrees,  and  that  this 
variety  of  tendencies,  aptitudes,  and  characters,  is  a 
fact  common  to  all  classes  of  beings,  independent  of 
education  ;  but,  in  my  opinion,  the  existence  of  natural 
varieties  by  no  means  precludes  that  of  acquired 
varieties.  Among  domestic  animals,  spaniels  or 
hounds  are  far  from  all  displaying  the  same  delicacy 
of  scent,  the  same  cunning  in  the  chase,  the  same 
certainty  in  pointing  the  game  ;  shepherds'  dogs  are 
far  from  all  being  endowed  with  the  same  instinct. 
Race-horses  of  the  same  breed  differ  in  speed ; 
draught-horses  of  the  same  strain  differ  in  strength. 
So  with  wild  animals.  Singing  birds  have  natur- 
ally the  song  of  their  species  ;  but  the  skill,  timbre, 


104  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY, 

compass,  and  charm  of  voice,  vary  from  one  bird 
to  another.  Certainly  ;  but  it  has  also  been  shown 
that  singing-birds  may  learn  to  sing  better,  just  as 
race-horses  may  be  trained  to  run  faster. 

In  man,  M.  Ribot  thinks  that  a  few  well-chosen 
examples  are  enough  to  show  the  rdle  played  by 
innate  tendencies  (often  nothing  but  heredity),  and 
to  cut  short  all  incomplete  explanations  drawn  from 
the  influence  of  education.  We  remember  how 
D'Alembert,  a  foundling  brought  up  by  the  widow 
of  a  poor  glazier,  penniless,  without  advice,  pursued 
by  the  mockery  of  his  adopted  mother,  his  comrades, 
and  the  master  who  did  not  understand  him,  none 
the  less  went  on  his  way  hopefully,  and  became,  at 
the  age  of  twenty-four,  a  member  of  the  Academic  des 
Sciences,  which  was  only  the  beginning  of  his  glory. 
"Imagine  him  brought  up  by  his  mother.  Mademoiselle 
de  Tencin,  and  at  an  early  age  admitted  to  the  salon 
where  met  together  so  many  men  of  parts  ;  imagine 
him  initiated  by  them  into  scientific  and  philosophical 
problems,  and  refined  by  their  conversation ;  and  the 
opponents  of  heredity  would  infallibly  see  in  his 
genius  the  result  of  his  education."  That  genius,  we 
answer,  cannot  be  the  product  of  education ;  but 
education  does  not  profess  to  give  genius  ;  it  develops 
it,  gives  it  free  play,  and  may  produce  talent.  If  we 
are  to  believe  M.  Ribot,  the  biography  of  most 
celebrated  men  shows  that  the  influence  of  education 
has  been  sometimes  nil^  sometimes  harmful,  and  in 
most  cases  weak.  If  we  take,  he  says,  great  generals 
— i.e.y  those  generals  whose  debuts  are  the  easier 
verified  because  of  their  striking  characters — we  find 
Alexander  commenced  his  victorious  career  at  20; 
Scipio  Africanus  (the  first)  at  24;    Charlemagne  at 


THE   ROLE   OF   EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY.    105 

30;  Charles  XII.  at  18;  Prince  Eugene  commanded 
the  Austrian  Army  at  25  ;  Buonaparte  the  Army  of 
Italy  at  26 ;  etc.  In  the  case  of  many  thinkers, 
artists,  inventors,  men  of  science,  the  same  precocity 
shows  that  education  is  of  small  moment  compared 
with  the  innate  tendencies.  M.  Ribot  always  speaks 
of  men  of  genius.  Even  with  men  of  genius,  with 
Alexander,  Charles  XII.,  and  Buonaparte  —  the 
accounts  of  the  glorious  deeds  of  others  have  almost 
invariably  been  the  cause  of  the  manifestation  of 
genius.  In  conclusion,  M.  Ribot  thinks  he  is  reducing 
the  influence  of  education  to  its  just  limits  by  saying — 
"  //  is  never  absolute^  and  is  efficacious  only  in  average 
natures^  Assume  that  the  different  degrees  of  the 
human  intellect  are  drawn  up  so  as  to  form  a  linear 
series  from  idiocy  at  one  end  to  genius  at  the  other. 
According  to  M.  Ribot,  the  influence  of  education  is  a 
minimum  at  each  end  of  the  series.  It  has  almost  no 
influence  at  all  on  the  idiot ;  unheard-of  efforts, 
prodigies  of  patience  and  skill,  only  issue  in  insignifi- 
cant and  ephemeral  results.  But  as  we  ascend  towards 
the  middle  of  the  series,  this  influence  increases,  and 
attains  its  maximum  in  those  average  natures,  which 
being  neither  good  nor  bad,  are  pretty  well  what 
chance  makes  them.  Then  if  we  glance  at  the  higher 
forms  of  the  intellect,  we  see  the  influence  of  educa- 
tion again  decreasing,  and  "  tending  to  its  minimum  " 
as  it  approaches  the  loftiest  genius.  We  willingly 
admit  this  ingenious  law  of  the  variations  of  influence 
in  the  two  first  applications,  without  feeling  bound  to 
conclude  that  education  "  is  efficacious  only  in  average 
natures."  In  fact  we  readily  see  why  an  idiot  is  but 
little  educable,  but  we  do  not  see  why  the  great 
natural  qualities  of  genius  should  make  it  inaccessible 


I06  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

to  education.  The  more  naturally  intelligent  one  is, 
>  the  more  one  is  capable  of  learning,  and  of  having 
one's  intelligence  developed  by  education.  The  more 
naturally  generous  one  is,  the  more  one  is  capable  of 
becoming  heroic  by  education,  etc.  I  think,  therefore, 
that  genius  simultaneously  realises  the  maximum  of 
abundantly  fruitful  heredity  and  educability. 

It  has  been  often  noticed  that  it  is  not  rare  to  find 
sceptical  children  in  pious  families,  or  pious  children 
in  sceptical  families,  children  led  astray  in  the  midst 
of  good  example,  or  ambitious,  though  born  in  a 
peaceful  and  modest  family.  But  because  parents  are 
pious,  it  by  no  means  follows  that  they  are  good 
educators  in  religion  ;  a  sceptic  may  produce  belief 
by  reaction  in  his  children,  and  vice  versA,  We  can 
scarcely  understand  an  hereditary  scepticism,  nor 
even  an  hereditary  piety. 

Finally,  concludes  M.  Ribot,  to  rule  over  average 
natures  is  still  an  important  function ;  for,  "  if  the 
higher  natures  act^  the  average  natures  re-act ; ''  and 
history  tells  us  that  "  the  progress  of  humanity  is  as 
much  the  result  of  the  re-actions  which  check  as  of 
the  actions  which  precipitate  its  motion."  We  may 
accept  this  conclusion,  with,  however,  the  addition 
that  education  may  and  ought  to  reign  over  higher 
as  well  as  average  natures.  Speed  already  acquired 
is  only  one  condition  more  for  the  acquisition  of  still 
greater  speed. 

It  is  especially  in  the  moral  order  (on  which  M. 
Ribot  barely  touches)  that  education  reigns  supreme. 
It  is  difficult  to  pretend  that  we  are  born  virtuous  by 
the  law  of  heredity.  We  certainly  may  have  a  natural 
goodness,  gentleness,  and  generosity,  but  that  is  not 
yet  morality  properly  so  called.     Morality  is  really 


THE  ROLE  OF   EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY.    I07 

the  daughter  of  the  intellect,  for  the  intellect  frames 
an  idea  of  the  highest  good,  sets  before  itself  an  ideal  ^ 
end,  and,  having  the  consciousness  of  an  initial  power 
of  realisation  arising  out  of  the  very  existence  of  the 
idea,  erects  into  a  law  and  duty  the  complete  realisa- 
tion of  the  ideal.  In  the  development  of  this  ascending 
tendency,  this  perpetual  sursum,  education  has  enor- 
mous power;  in  my  opinion  it  is,  according  to 
circumstances,  the  great  moralising  or  demoralising 
influence. 

The  tendency  of  life  towards  the  maximum  of 
inward  intensity  and  of  outward  expansion,  is  for  us 
inherent  in  life  itself  It  is  its  initial  spring.  This 
tendency  first  becomes  moral  when  the  striving  after 
the  greatest  inward  intensity  takes  place  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  highest  psychic  activities ;  right  direction  is 
the  essential  point  Now  it  is  obvious  that  this  right 
direction  may  be  produced  by  education,  just  as  it 
may  also  be  naturally  facilitated  or  partly  predeter- 
mined by  heredity,  which  makes  certain  tendencies 
and  sentiments  dominate  others.  The  moral  hierarchy 
of  the  sentiments  is  then  easier  to  establish.  In 
the  second  place,  the  tendency  towards  the  maxi- 
mum vitality  becomes  moral  when  the  tendency  to 
outward  expansion  is  manifested  by  concord  with 
others,  by  sympathy  and  affection,  instead  of  being 
manifested  by  brutality  and  violence.  Here  again 
education  and  heredity  play  an  important  part. 
Education  ends  by  putting  others  on  the  same 
footing  as  ourselves  in  our  thoughts,  in  our  senti- 
ments, and  ipso  facto  in  our  wills.  Heredity,  on  the  ^ 
other  hand,  transmits  the  tendencies  to  gentleness  and 
kindness,  as  it  may  also  transmit  tendencies  to  violence 
and  brutality. 


I08  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

The  element  of  obligation  and  duty  remains — the 
form  attached  by  us  to  the  idea  of  the  most  intensive 
and  expansive  life.  I  have  shown  that  obligation  is  a 
power  which,  conscious  of  its  superiority,  is  opposed 
to  what  is  inferior  or  incompatible,  and  is  thus  of 
itself  tran:>lated  into  duty ;  I  can  do  more  and  better 
than  I  do,  therefore  I  ought.  Here  is  a  contrast,  a 
sense  of  internal  division,  making  us  lay  down  in  our 
thoughts  a  higher  law  than  we  realise,  or  see  realised. 
This  tendency  to  development  of  the  maxi7num  power 
is  accumulated  in  two  ways — by  education  and  by 
heredity.  The  more  we  do,  the  more  we  want  to  do  ; 
the  better  we  do,  the  better  we  wish  to  do ;  there  is 
an  accelerated  speed,  an  incessant  craving  to  excel 
one's  self;  as  in  the  artist  who  is  always  wishing  to 
produce  a  masterpiece  better  than  all  his  preceding 
work.  As  for  the  form  of  the  law, — imperative,  or 
inward  command,  which  is  really  a  kind  of  internal  con- 
straint,— it  has  the  characteristics  of  an  instinct  which 
belong  to  everything  that  is  hereditarily  transmissible. 
We  are  born  more  and  more  controlled  by  this 
internal  law  ;  the  civilised  child,  instead  of  being  like 
the  savage,  lawless  and  unrestrained,  is  quite  ready  to 
bend  to  the  yoke  of  this  inward  law.  Education  finds 
in  it  a  kind  of  pre-established  respect  for  law,  of 
natural  loyalty,  but  it  strengthens  the  inner  law  by  the 
enormous  force  of  acquired  habits.  Modern  educa- 
^  tion  should,  above  all,  preserve  and  develop  its  own 
higher  product — morality.  In  the  case  of  children 
?  we  must  store  up  moral  power  by  good  habits.  Duty 
being  but  the  consciousness  of  higher  power,  we 
must  before  anything  else  give  that  power,  or  at 
least  the  belief  in  it,  which  tends  spontaneously  to 
produce  it. 


THE   ROLE   OF   EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY.    IO9 

Herbart  very  clearly  saw  the  tendency  of  the 
human  mind  to  ^^  maximation"  which  is,  according 
to  Kant,  the  most  general  characteristic  of  "  practical 
reason."  He  understood  the  use  to  be  made  of 
it,  and  the  role  it  should  play  in  education.  In  the 
course  of  life  each  individual  is  led  to  formulate 
for  himself  rules  of  conduct,  varying  with  the  kind 
of  life  he  leads,  his  tastes,  preferences,  habits,  and 
needs.  The  rake  and  the  hard-working  man,  the 
criminal  and  philanthropist,  alike  obey  certain  con- 
stant rules  which  at  bottom  are  only  the  theoretical 
formula  of  their  practice.  This  apparently  singular 
fact  is  due,  according  to  Herbart,  to  the  necessary 
priority  of  action  to  the  analysis  or  criticism  of 
action.  Moral  consciousness  itself  does  not  exist 
in  every  detail  in  the  child's  mind ;  but  it  is  de-  < 
veloped  in  proportion  as  the  child  is  called  upon  to 
act.  If,  then,  we  wish  to  exercise  a  moral  influence 
on  children,  we  must  direct  their  actions  before  teach-  < 
ing  them  axioms ;  we  must,  as  Herbart  says,  let  them 
formulate  for  themselves  rules  of  conduct  conform- 
able to  the  virtuous  habits  inculcated  in  early  life. 
"  Men,  if  they  are  not  fond  of  carrying  their  maxims 
into  practice,  never  forget  to  turn  their  practice  into 
maxims.  Now  this  offers  no  inconvenience  when 
the  practices  are  good  practices."  The  idea  is  true, 
but  is  exaggerated  by  Herbart  when  he  thinks  it< 
useless  to  give  maxims  to  children.  It  is  good  to 
accustom  the  child  to  make  for  itself  a  law^  a  duty^ 
an  obligation^  but  as  we  cannot  count  on  the  absolute 
spontaneity  of  the  child,  we  must  first  impose  on  it . 
a  law  which  it  recognises  as  just  and  rational.  The 
law  will  then  be  accepted,  and  autonomy  will  subsist 
until  it  becomes  obedience.     Only,  for  this  to  be  so. 


no  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

we  must  wish  and  act  as  a  real  lawgiver  should — 
i.e,^  with  perfect  uniformity  and  perpetual  constancy. 
Thus  the  influence  of  education  will  be  added  to 
that  of  heredity.  The  latter  may  be  enough  to  pro- 
duce genius,  but  it  will  never  be  enough  to  produce 
true  morality. 


CHAPTER  III. 

PHYSICAL   EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY.       THE 
BOARDING-SCHOOL.      OVERPRESSURE. 

I.  The  Absolute  Necessity  of  Physical  Education  in  the  Education  of 
the  Race. — Reasons  for  its  neglect  at  the  present  day — Sedentary  habits 
and  their  dangers — Precocity. 

II.  The  Boarding- School  Question. — English  public  schools — The 
tutorial  system — Germany — The  United  States. 

III.  The  Question  of  Overpressure. — Necessity  for  recreation  and 
games — Gymnastics,  its  advantages  and  shortcomings. 

IV.  Manual  Work  in  Schools. 

V.  The  Physical  Progress  of  the  Race,  and  the  Growth  of  Population, 

I.  The  Absolute  Necessity  of  Physical  Education  in  the 
Education  of  the  Race. 

It  IS  said  that  the  first  pen  ever  used  for  writing 
was  a  cornstalk.  With  the  stem  of  the  corn  that 
nourishes  the  body  the  first  intellectual  food  is 
prepared. 

Whatever  the  sex  of  a  child,  its  bodily  powers  may 
always  be  developed  without  any  inconvenience,  for 
physical  health  under  all  circumstances  is  a  desirable 
possession.  On  the  other  hand,  intellectual  over- 
pressure, by  fatiguing  the  body,  may  disturb  the 
equilibrium  of  the  mind.  "To  brace  the  mind,  we 
must  strengthen  the  muscles,"  said  Montaigne.     And 


/ 


112  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

Rousseau  observed  that  "the  weaker  a  body  is,  the 
more  it  commands ;  the  stronger  it  is,  the  more  it 
obeys." 

"The  rationale  of  our  high-pressure  education  is 
that  it  results  from  our  passing  phase  of  civilisation." 
"  In  primitive  times,"  says  Spencer,  "  when  aggression 
and  defence  were  the  leading  social  activities,  bodily 
vigour,  with  its  accompanying  courage,  were  the 
desiderata;  and  then  education  was  almost  wholly 
physical ;  mental  culture  was  little  cared  for,  and 
indeed,  as  in  feudal  ages,  was  often  treated  with 
contempt.  But  now  that  our  state  is  relatively 
peaceful,  —  now  that  muscular  power  is  of  use  for 
little  else  than  manual  labour,  while  social  success 
of  nearly  every  kind  depends  very  much  on  mental 
power, — our  education  has  become  almost  exclusively 
mental.  Instead  of  respecting  the  body  and  ignoring 
the  mind,  we  now  respect  the  mind  and  ignore  the 
body.  .  .  .  Few  seem  conscious  that  there  is  such  a 
thing  as  physical  morality.  Men's  habitual  words 
and  acts  imply  the  idea  that  they  are  at  liberty  to 
treat  their  bodies  as  they  please."^ 

"Though  the  evil  consequences  inflicted  on  their 
dependents,  and  on  future  generations,  are  often  as 
great  as  those  caused  by  crime,  yet  they  do  not 
think  themselves  in  any  degree  criminal.  It  is  true 
that  in  the  case  of  drunkenness  the  viciousness  of  a 
bodily  transgression  is  recognised;  but  none  appear 
to  infer  that  if  this  bodily  transgression  is  vicious, 
so  too  is  every  bodily  transgression.  The  fact  is 
that  all  breaches  of  the  laws  of  health  are  physical 
sinsy^ 

The  object  of  education  is  to  develop  all  the  powers 

*  Spencer,  Education,  p.  189  (stereotyped  edition).         ^  Ibid.,  p.  190. 


THE   BOARDING-SCHOOL   QUESTION.  II 3 

of  a  being,  to  cause  it  to  act  in  all  directions,  to  make 
it  expend  as  much  as  possible,  and  therefore  not  to 
draw  upon  it  except  for  expenditure  easily  made 
good, — expenditure  setting  up  the  process  of  recu- 
peration, and  in  some  measure  itself  recuperative. 

Exercise  in  the  open  air  is  a  type  of  expenditure  of 
this  kind.  The  exact  opposite  of  this  is  a  prolonged 
stay  in  an  unhealthy  environment — e.g.,  certain  fac- 
tories, a  badly-ventilated  clerks'  office,  the  drawing- 
rooms  where  the  middle  classes  spend  a  large  part  of 
their  useless  existence,  or,  finally,  the  French  schools 
and  colleges  where  sedentary  habits  are  carried  to 
excess.  Sedentary  habits  are  the  greatest  enemy  of 
the  body ;  the  greatest  enemy  of  the  mind  is  inatten- 
tion. The  ideal  of  the  educator  is  therefore  to  obtain 
from  the  child  for  a  short  period  its  whole  attention, 
then  to  let  it  unbend  and  repair  its  expenditure. 

II.   The  Boarding' School  Question. 

Hygienic  mistakes  in  schools  are  very  numer- 
ous ;  the  time  for  meals  is  too  short ;  the  pupils 
eat  too  quickly  and  in  silence, — this  impedes  their 
digestion.  The  bad  air  of  the  class-rooms  gets 
worse  and  worse  as  the  lesson  is  prolonged.  We 
feel  revulsion  at  the  idea  of  all  eating  out  of  the 
same  dish ;  but  in  reality  in  our  school-rooms 
we  breathe  in  this  way,  or  rather  we  do  worse  still, 
and  breathe  an  atmosphere  already  expired  several 
times. 

In  addition  to  good  food  and  good  air,  one  essential 
point  is  a  sufficient  amount  of  well  distributed  sleep. 
Nourishment  alone  is  not  enough  to  repair  the 
expenditure  of  the  nervous  system,  and  one  of  the 

8 


114  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

greatest  inconveniences  of  modern  education  is  the 
cutting  short  or  the  unwise  distribution  of  the  hours 
of  sleep.  Every  one  has  recognised  the  dangers  the 
boarding-school  may  present  with  reference  to 
hygiene — overcrowding  and  confinement,  unhealthy 
for  mind  and  body  alike ;  a  rigid  syllabus,  narrowly 
conceived  rules,  breaking  too  often  in  the  child  that 
spring  of  the  will,  the  strengthening  of  which  educa- 
tion properly  understood  ought  to  have  as  its  object ; 
the  difficulty  of  getting  house-masters ;  separation 
from  the  family  which  ceases  to  care,  while  the  child 
himself  loses  his  home  affections.  In  the  time  of 
Napoleon  I.  the  most  violent  efforts  were  necessary 
to  fill  the  boarding  lyceums ;  the  foundation  of  6400 
scholarships  does  not  seem  to  have  been  enough  for 
the  purpose.  Over  and  above  this,  the  edict  of 
January  i8th,  and  the  decree  of  November  15th,  181 1, 
abruptly  closed  all  the  small  boarding-houses  estab- 
lished either  by  the  University  professors  or  by 
others.  The  boarding-house  is  therefore  an  institu- 
■  tion  artificially  implanted  in  France  by  the  all- 
powerful  hand  of  the  State.  Napoleon  wanted  the 
student  at  a  lyceum  to  be  already  a  soldier  and  an 
official.  Twenty  years  before,  M.  Sainte- Claire 
Deville  called  the  attention  of  the  Academic  des 
Sciences  Morales  et  Politiques  to  the  question  of 
morality  in  boarding-schools  : — "  Experimental  mor- 
ality, if  I  may  use  the  expression,  can  no  more 
be  practised  on  man  than  physiology;  but  by 
operating  on  animals,  and  at  the  same  time 
taking  into  sufficient  account  the  human  intellect, 
we  may  try  to  discover  the  physical  causes  of 
the  faults  and  vices  of  children,  who  at  certain 
periods  of  their  development  are  so  near  the  brute 


THE  BOARDING-SCHOOL  QUESTION.  IIS 

creation,  and  I  am  sure  we  may  eventually  arrive 
at  practical  results  of  great  interest.  ...  In  general, 
whenever  we  group  together  and  bring  into  domestic 
restraint  animals  of  the  same — and  especially  of 
the  male — sex,  we  notice  at  first  a  great  excite- 
ment, and  afterwards  a  formidable  perversion  of  the 
reproductive  instincts.  On  the  other  hand,  when 
animals  destined  to  live  in  community  are  kept  in 
flocks,  or  are  at  complete  liberty,  we  see  the  normal 
characteristics  of  the  animal  dominate.  .  .  .  What 
happens  in  a  flock  happens  also  in  a  collection  of 
male  children,  of  whatever  kind  it  may  be,  though 
restrained  by  the  strictest  surveillance  both  day 
and  night.  The  gravest  inconvenience  to  society  of 
these  vices  is  the  exaggerated  development,  between 
twenty  or  thirty  years  of  age,  of  the  generative 
faculties,  from  which  spring  debauchery  and  impurity 
of  every  kind."  The  consequences  to  heredity  and 
the  race  are  obvious. 

Although  the  State  has  done  much  for  instruction, 
it  has  done  but  little  for  education.  If  education  is 
left  in  the  hands  of  the  State,  the  result  will  be  large 
boarding-schools — the  legacy  of  the  sixteenth  or 
seventeenth  century  Jesuits — where  the  child,  parted 
from  its  family,  acquires  neither  distinction  of  manner 
nor  refinement.  Education,  says  M.  Renan,  is 
respect  for  what  is  really  good,  noble,  and  beautiful ; 
it  is  politeness,  "that  delightful  virtue  which  atones 
for  the  lack  of  so  many  others  ; "  it  is  tact,  which  is 
almost  a  virtue.  "The  professor  cannot  teach  that 
purity  and  refinement  of  conscience,  which  is  the  basis 
of  all  solid  morality,  that  bloom  of  sentiment  which 
some  day  will  be  the  great  charm  of  the  man,  that 
mental  subtlety  with  its  almost  imperceptible  shades, 


Il6  EDUCATION   AND  HEREDITY. 

— where  then  can  the  child  and  young  man  learn  all 
these?  In  books,  in  lessons,  if  due  attention  be  paid 
to  them  ?  in  texts  learned  by  heart  ?  Not  at  all ; 
these  things  are  learned  in  the  atmosphere  in  which 
we  live,  from  our  social  environment ;  they  are 
learned  in  domestic  life  and  nowhere  else."  Instruc- 
tion is  given  in  the  class,  the  lyceum,  and  the  school ; 
education  takes  place  in  the  father's  house ;  the 
masters  are  the  mothers  and  sisters.  .  .  .  "Woman, 
deeply  thoughtful  and  moral,  alone  can  heal  the  sores 
of  the  present  times  ;  alone  can  take  up  anew  the 
education  of  man,  and  bring  back  the  taste  for  the 
beautiful  and  the  good."  We  must  therefore  take 
back  the  child,  we  must  not  entrust  it  to  mercenary 
hands,  we  must  never  be  separated  from  it  except 
during  the  hours  devoted  to  class-teaching. 

The  defenders  of  the  boarding  system  speak  of 
mutual  formation  of  character.  That  is  to  say,  that 
at  school  we  quickly  learn  from  the  wholesome  dread 
of  solid  fists  to  restrain  within  ourselves  certain 
asperities  of  character  ;  but  to  think  that  those 
asperities  have  in  consequence  disappeared,  is  to 
forget  that  the  hostile  environment  immediately 
formed  by  children  in  relation  to  those  who  are  dis- 
tasteful to  them  is  also  apt  to  develop  unsociability. 

But  if  the  boarding  system  is  an  evil,  it  is  none  the 
less  a  necessary  evil,  and  those  who  wish  the  State  to 
suppress  it  in  the  lyceums  do  not  realise  what  its  aboli- 
tion would  bring  about.  There  are  only  about  a 
hundred  lyceums,  and  as  many  more  colleges  and 
private  schools,  where  secondary  education  can  be 
effectually  given.  Now  there  are  thirty-six  thousand 
communes,  and  in  each  of  these  communes  there  are 
many  children  who  must  receive  secondary  education. 


THE   BOARDING-SCHOOL  QUESTION.  II7 

Hence,  for  the  provincial  lower  middle  class,  the 
boarding-school  is  the  only,  or  at  any  rate  the 
simplest,  means  of  obtaining  instruction  for  their 
children  without  too  heavy  a  sacrifice.  If  the  State 
suppressed  these  schools  to-day,  it  would  in  the  first 
place  have  to  fear  the  competition  of  the  clerical 
boarding-schools,  and  then  schools  of  the  same  kind 
would  be  in  a  short  time  established  by  private  indi- 
viduals. Public  instruction,  instead  of  being  a  State 
department,  would  become  a  private  speculation — the 
worst  of  all  industries.  These  little  private  boarding- 
schools  have  all  the  inconveniences  of  the  lyceums, 
without  having  either  their  scholastic  advantages  or 
their  discipline.  The  master  is  more  than  anything 
else  afraid  of  losing  a  pupil,  so  he  must  shut  his  eyes 
to  all  that  goes  on.  His  assistant  masters  are  on 
contract  (/.^.,  the  lowest  tender  accepted)  ;  so  we  may 
imagine  what  they  are  like.  The  food  is  just  what  we 
might  expect  from  the  minimum  fees  paid  by  the 
parents. 

Lastly,  there  is  far  greater  danger  of  immorality, 
for  there  is  neither  proper  surveillance,  nor  is  the 
head  master  responsible  to  the  university  authorities. 
Laissez  faire^  let  things  go,  and  hush  up  every  scandal. 

Though  the  boarding-school  cannot  be  entirely 
suppressed,  at  least  it  may  be  improved.  To  under- 
stand in  what  direction  it  may  be  reformed,  and  even 
partially  replaced,  let  us  see  what  is  done  in  foreign 
countries. 

In  England,  a  school  of  secondary  instruction — 
Harrow,  for  instance — is  quite  a  hamlet.  Different 
houses,  tenanted  by  the  teachers  and  their  pupils,  are 
grouped  around  the  main  building  containing  the 
class-rooms.     All  around  are  wide  stretches  of  ground 


Il8  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

for  tennis,  football,  and  cricket.  The  boys,  only 
massed  together  in  school  hours,  leave  school  directly 
the  lessons  are  over,  and  return  to  the  house  in  which 
they  live. 

In  fact,  the  boys  sent  by  their  parents  to  a  public 
school  as  boarders  are  handed  over  to  one  of  the 
masters,  whose  house  becomes  theirs.  There  they 
remain — and  this  is  the  important  point — during  the 
whole  time  of  their  stay  at  school.  There  they  find,  up 
to  a  certain  point,  family  life ;  they  have  their  meals 
with  the  master,  his  wife,  his  mother,  and  his  sisters. 
A  boy  may  have  ten  masters,  but  he  has  always  the 
same  tutor.  Thus  the  tutors  are  able  to  carry  out 
the  regulations  laid  down  by  the  statutes,  and  are  to 
the  boys  in  loco  parentis. 

The  great  schools  are  divided  into  two  classes, 
according  to  the  system  pursued  with  respect  to 
sleeping  arrangements.  At  Eton,  for  instance,  each 
boy  has  his  own  little  room.  In  others,  as  at  Rugby, 
the  boys  are  distributed,  at  night  only  of  course,  in 
dormitories  of  from  two  to  sixteen  beds.  But  on  one 
point  they  all  agree — viz.,  the  perfect  freedom  of  the 
boys  out  of  school  hours.  Once  the  lesson  is  over, 
the  boy  comes  back,  goes  out,  works,  or  plays,  just  as 
he  likes  and  when  he  likes.  The  only  rule  that 
obtains  is  absolute  ;  it  refers  to  the  hours  of  lessons, 
meals,  and  "  lock-up,"  the  latter  being  at  nine  in 
summer,  and  in  winter  at  dusk.  The  only  obligation 
is  to  have  finished  the  work  set  by  a  stated  time. 
"  Severe  penalties  are  inflicted  for  all  forgetful n ess, 
and  for  all  neglected  work."  Under  such  conditions 
as  these,  surveillance  as  understood  in  France  is 
literally  impossible  :  out  of  school  the  boys  watch  and 
govern  themselves. 


THE   BOARDING-SCHOOL  QUESTION.  II9 

The  big  boys,  or  rather  the  boys  in  the  highest 
class,  called  monitors ^  prcepostors^  or  prefects ^  are 
legally  invested  with  power,  and  maintain  their  rights 
with  all  possible  energy.  This  does  away  with  the 
maitre  d'^tudes"^  at  once.  I  should  add,  that  if  this 
system  became  prevalent  in  France,  it  would  be 
necessary  to  modify  some  of  the  English  customs. 
Fagging,  for  example,  would  have  no  chance  of  being 
established  here.  The  main  objection  is  that  English 
secondary  education  is  of  a  very  aristocratic  character. 
The  fees  at  Harrow  or  Eton  are  from  ;^320  to  £\Zo 
per  annum.  At  this  price  they  may  have  comfort. 
It  has  yet  to  be  ascertained  if  it  is  easy  for  the  child 
of  a  tradesman  or  peasant  to  pursue  his  classical 
studies.  It  is  true  there  are  many  less  expensive 
schools,  and  that  there  are  a  great  many  scholarships. 
Unfortunately  the  English  themselves  assure  us  that 
the  "  scholars  "  are  looked  down  upon  with  the  utmost 
contempt  by  their  aristocratic  school-fellows. 

Harrow,  Eton,  and  Rugby  are  the  principal  seats  of 
secondary  instruction,  and  nearly  correspond  to  our 
great  lyceums ;  there  are  about  800  boys  at  Eton,  and 
500  each  at  Harrow  and  Rugby,  in  age  averaging 
from  13  to  18.  Eight  hours'  work  per  day  is  the 
maximum  ;  in  most  cases  it  is  only  six  or  seven ; 
athletics — tennis,  football,  running,  boating,  and 
especially  cricket — occupy  a  part  of  every  day ; 
in  addition,  two  or  three  times  a  week  there  is 
no  afternoon  school,  and  games  reign  supreme. 

I  have  shown  from  the  French  point  of  view  the 
advantages  of  the  English  system;   let  us  ask  the 

1  The  duties  of  the  mattre  d^ etudes  are  to  look  after  the  boys  when 
not  in  school — i.e.^  when  preparing  lessons,  sleeping,  walking,  playing, 
eating,  etc.     (Tr.) 


I20  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

English  themselves  what  are  its  drawbacks.  The 
first  is  physical  overpressure^  which  stands  out  in 
strange  contrast  to  our  intellectual  overpressure. 
This  physical  overpressure  has  affected  all  classes  of 
the  community,  even  those  who,  from  their  position, 
would  seem  most  likely  to  escape  it — viz.,  the  aris- 
tocracy. And,  in  curious  contrast  to  what  obtains  in 
France,  if  the  English  doctors  raise  the  question  of 
overpressure,  it  is  physical  overpressure,  and  they 
lead  the  crusade  against  the  abuse  of  rough  games. 
The  most  pronounced  opponent  of  games  of  strength 
in  England  is  a  contemporary  novelist,  Wilkie  Collins, 
who,  in  his  Man  and  Wife,  discusses  amongst  other 
questions  the  present  rage  for  muscular  exercise, 
and  its  influence  on  the  health  and  morality  of  the 
rising  generation  in  England.  In  the  preface  of 
this  book,  written  in  1871,  he  expresses  himself  as 
follows : — 

"  As  to  the  physical  results  of  the  mania  for  muscular  cultiva- 
tion which  has  seized  on  us  of  late  years,  it  is  a  fact  that  the 
opinions  expressed  in  this  book  are  the  opinions  of  the  medical 
profession  in  general — with  the  high  authority  of  Mr.  Skey  at 
their  head.  And  (if  the  medical  evidence  is  to  be  disputed  as 
evidence  based  on  theory  only)  it  is  also  a  fact  that  the  view 
taken  by  the  doctors  is  a  view  which  the  experience  of  fathers 
in  all  parts  of  England  can  practically  confirm  by  reference  to 
the  cases  of  their  sons.  This  last  new  form  of  our  *  national 
eccentricity'  has  its  victims  to  answer  for — victims  who  are 
broken  for  life. 

"  As  to  the  moral  results,  I  may  be  right  or  I  may  be  wrong, 
in  seeing  as  I  do  a  connection  between  the  recent  unbridled 
development  of  physical  cultivation  in  England,  and  the  recent 
spread  of  grossness  and  brutality  among  certain  classes  of  the 
English  population.  But,  is  it  to  be  denied  that  the  grossness 
and  the  brutality  exist?  and,  more,  that  they  have  assumed 
formidable  proportions  among  us  of  late   years?      We   have 


THE   BOARDING-SCHOOL  QUESTION.  121 

become  so  shamelessly  familiar  with  violence  and  outrage,  that 
we  recognise  them  as  a  necessary  ingredient  in  our  social 
system,  and  class  our  savages  as  a  representative  part  of  our 
population,  under  the  newly  invented  name  of  *  Roughs.' 
Public  attention  has  been  directed  by  hundreds  of  other  writers 
to  the  dirty  Rough  in  fustian.  If  the  present  writer  had  confined 
himself  within  those  limits,  he  would  have  carried  all  his  readers 
with  him.  But  he  is  bold  enough  to  direct  attention  to  the 
washed  Rough  in  broadcloth — and  he  must  stand  on  his  defence 
with  readers  who  have  not  noticed  this  variety,  or  who,  having 
noticed,  prefer  to  ignore  it.'* 

Mr.  Matthew  Arnold,  in  his  turn,  does  not  hesitate 
to  declare  that  the  great  mass  of  his  fellow-countrymen 
are  either  Barbarians,  recruited  especially  from  the 
aristocracy;  Philistines,  forming  the  bulk  of  the  middle 
classes;  or  the  squalid  masses,  which  he  calls  the 
Populace.^  He  is  of  opinion  that  the  character  of  this 
or  that  class  of  society  depends  especially  upon  its 
conception  of  happiness ;  now  the  Barbarians,  as  he 
tells  us,  delight  in  honours,  consideration,  bodily  exer- 
cises, field  sports,  and  noisy  pleasures.  The  Philistines 
care  for  nothing  but  fanaticism,  the  fever  of  business, 
money-making,  comfort,  and  tea-meetings.  As  for  the 
masses,  their  only  happiness  is  in  brawling,  hustling, 
smashing — and  cheap  beer.  Mr.  Matthew  Arnold 
asserts  that  in  England  public  education  is  deficient, 
that  it  tends  to  increase  the  number  of  Philistines  and 
Barbarians,  and  does  but  little  to  mitigate  the  brutality 
of  the  masses  ;  that  it  would  be  a  good  thing  for  the 
government  to  take  it  in  hand  ;  that  it  is  for  the  State 
alone  to  instruct  and  elevate  the  people;  and  that 
this  system  works  well  in  France. 

On  the  other  hand,  a  great  authority  at  the  Universi- 
ties, Edward  Lyttleton,has  pointed  out  in  the  iVi^W/^^;///^ 

^  Culture  and  Anarchy y  chap.  iii.     (Tr.) 


122  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

Century  the  abuse  of  athletics  in  schools.  The  spec- 
tators are  so  numerous,  and  to  such  an  extent  have 
the  parents  and  the  public  encouraged  these  games, 
that  they  have  become  the  dominant  and  almost 
exclusive  interest  of  a  large  number  of  pupils.  If  a 
boy  is  robust  and  skilful,  even  if  at  the  bottom  of  a 
class  of  dunces,  the  hope  of  approaching  triumph  is 
placed  before  him  ;  he  becomes  the  master,  and  the 
absolute  master.  Teachers  and  heads  of  schools  are 
obliged  to  subordinate  themselves  to  the  necessities 
of  the  games.  Intellectual  culture  takes  rank  after 
athletics.  As  for  morality,  Mr.  Lyttleton  asserts  that 
even  if  games  are  of  use  in  restraining  certain  dis- 
orderly habits,  they  have  nothing  in  themselves  of  a 
moralising  tendency.  "  Mere  students  are  as  a  body 
more  virtuous  than  the  mere  athletes."  According 
to  Mr.  Lyttleton,  the  cause  of  this  excess  is  the 
infatuation  of  the  public  and  its  enormous  interest  in 
games.^ 

In  spite  of  all  these  drawbacks,  it  must  be  agreed 
that  this  athletic  education,  confined  within  proper 
limits,  is  a  condition  of  the  regeneration  and  heredi- 
tary strength  of  the  race.  If  an  idle  fellow  in  England 
becomes  a  Hercules,  it  is  a  compensation  and  consola- 
tion to  the  race.  But  our  idle  boys  are  "  little  and 
overworked,"  only  adapted  to  cause  our  race  to  dis- 
appear. 

Let  us  now  see  how  things  are  managed  in 
Germany.  M.  Michal  Br^al,  who  is  singularly  com- 
petent to  speak  on  this  question,  will  give  us  the  infor- 
mation we  require.  In  Germany  the  parents  look 
out  for  some  family  of  good  repute,  able  and  willing 
to  give  the  child  board  and  lodging.     He  is  received 

^  Nineteenth  Centwy^  January  1880. 


THE   BOARDING-SCHOOL   QUESTION.  1 23 

as  a  playfellow  of  the  children  of  the  house,  and  has 
his  place  at  the  domestic  hearth.  All  this  is  done  for 
a  sometimes  astonishingly  small  remuneration  ;  the 
little  guest  disturbs  no  arrangements,  an  unoccupied 
room  is  all  he  wants,  and  one  mouth  more  at  table 
increases  inappreciably  the  household  expenses.  For 
two  hundred  years  this  custom  has  obtained  in  Ger- 
many, and  there  is  no  likelihood  of  its  being  aban- 
doned. "  At  the  present  moment,  out  of  one  thousand 
pupils  at  the  gymnasiums,  less  than  a  hundred  are 
without  the  advantages  of  family  life."  ^  The  board- 
ing-school does,  however,  exist  in  Germany,  but  is  the 
exception  to  the  rule. 

In  the  matter  of  school  organisation,  the  United 
States  are  inspired  both  by  Germany  and  England  ; 
there  we  find  schools  like  Harrow,  for  instance,  for 
the  children  of  the  wealthy  classes. 

How  far  are  these  different  systems  applicable  in 
France  with  our  present  customs?  With  reference 
to  the  adoption  of  the  English  tutorial  system,  it  may 
be  objected  that  if  the  teacher  fulfils  at  the  same  time 

^  This  system  also  obtained  in  France  in  bygone  days.  * '  I  was 
born,"  says  M.  Renan,  "in  a  small  town  in  Lower  Brittany,  where  was 
a  school  kept  by  a  few  respected  ecclesiastics  who  taught  Latin  very 
well.  The  perfume  of  antiquity  exhaled  by  that  house  enchants  me  now 
when  I  think  of  it ;  one  might  imagine  one's  self  transported  to  the  days 
of  Rollin  or  of  the  recluses  of  Port  Royal.  This  school  was  attended 
by  the  youth  of  the  town  and  of  the  country  round  within  a  radius  of 
from  six  to  eight  leagues.  There  were  very  few  boarders.  When  the 
young  folk  had  no  relations  in  the  town,  they  lived  with  the  towns- 
people, many  of  whom  made  some  little  profit  in  the  exercise  of  this 
hospitality  ;  the  relations  coming  in  to  market  on  Wednesday  brought 
the  children  their  provisions  for  the  week  ;  and  the  latter  messed  in 
common  with  much  cordiality,  gaiety,  and  economy.  This  was  the 
system  pursued  in  the  Middle  Ages.  It  is  also  the  custom  in  England 
and  Germany, — countries  so  advanced  in  all  matters  connected  with 
education." 


124  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

the  duties  of  tutor,  his  office  must  sustain  some  detri- 
ment. We  cannot  without  danger  combine  the  work 
of  preparing  a  class  with  the  absorbing  care  of  private 
teaching.  "  The  university,"  says  Bersot,  "  has  a  staff 
of  professors,  men  much  respected  and  of  great  dis- 
tinction, with  modest  means,  but  independent  of  the 
families  whose  children  they  educate,  entirely  devoted 
to  the  work  of  their  classes,  or  perhaps  adding  to  it 
other  labours,  ranking  among  the  most  important 
works  of  our  time;  we  do  not  want  them  to  be 
other  than  they  are,  or  to  cease  to  do  what  they  do 
so  well."  When  he  represents  our  professors  as 
entirely  devoted  to  the  work  of  their  classes^  Bersot 
forgets  that  nine-tenths  of  them  spend  their  days 
in  giving  private  lessons,  etc.,  no  less  absorbing 
and  stupefying  than  tutorial  work.  It  is  obvious 
that  only  such  professors  as  these  would  take 
boarders. 

The  model  Alsatian  school,  into  which  have  been 
introduced  most  of  the  reforms  lauded  by  modern 
pedagogues,  has  succeeded  in  replacing  the  boarding- 
school  by  the  tutorial  regime.  The  Direct eur  of  the 
school  recently  congratulated  himself,  and  with  good 
reason  ;  he  contrasted  the  life  of  a  boarder  in  one  of 
the  best  lyceums  with  the  child's  life  in  one  of  the 
teacher's  houses.  The  child  sleeps  in  his  own  room  ; 
his  private  life  is  watched  as  it  would  be  by  his  father 
or  mother,  but  it  is  respected.  He  gets  up  early  in 
the  morning,  not  at  the  sound  of  bell  or  drum,  but 
because  the  whole  household  is  getting  up,  and 
because  there  is  a  tradition  that  morning  work  is  the 
healthiest  and  most  fruitful.  He  does  his  exercises, 
or  he  learns  his  lessons,  either  alone  in  his  own  room, 
if  he  is  a  big  boy,  or  in  the  common  room  with  other 


THE  BOARDING-SCHOOL  QUESTION.  1 25 

little  friends  of  his  own  age,  under  the  paternal  care 
of  the  head  of  the  family,  or  sometimes  under  a  young 
master — a  teacher  in  the  school — who  is  like  an  elder 
brother  of  the  pupils.  The  holidays,  Thursday  and 
Sunday,  are  always  devoted  to  long  walks ;  the 
country  is  visited  in  order  that  the  boys  may  have 
the  opportunity  of  giving  themselves  up  to  those 
amusements  which  form  the  best  part  of  the  existence 
of  the  English  youth — walking,  rough  games,  cycling, 
skating,  swimming ;  there  the  boarders  frequently 
meet  their  school-fellows  ;  in  fact,  life  in  the  open-air, 
long  walks,  and  bodily  exercise  are  the  traditions  not 
merely  of  the  school  but  of  most  of  the  families  from 
which  the  pupils  are  drawn. 

We  may  also  mention  the  Ecole  Monge  as  a  model 
of  an  improved  boarding-school,  where  the  children 
talk  during  meals ;  where — and  I  draw  particular 
attention  to  this  point — they  sleep  in  a  well-ventilated 
room,  the  younger  children  for  10  hours,  the  elder 
children  for  9  hours  ;  whereas  at  a  lyceum  the  children 
above  13  years  of  age  get  no  more  than  8  hours'  sleep 
in  summer. 

The  only  drawback  is  the  question  of  money.  Even 
in  the  Alsatian  school,  where  the  tutorial  regime 
appears  to  have  been  established  in  a  peculiarly 
economical  fashion,  the  average  fees  are  as  high  as 
;^ioo  per  annum  for  the  younger  children,  and  ;^I20 
for  the  rest. 

Our  higher  primary  instruction  is  at  present  pro- 
vided with  boarding-scholarships,  which  are  a  very 
happy  adaptation  of  the  German  plan.  The  holders 
of  these  scholarships  are  placed  in  families  within 
easy  distance  of  the  schools,  and  the  State  pays  ;^20 
a  year  for  their  board.     If  we  remember  that  these 


126  EDUCATION  AND  HEREDITY. 

scholars  are  on  the  avprage  between  12  and  16,  we 
may  hope  that  an  average  of  £28  per  annum  would 
be  enough  for  the  board  of  pupils  receiving  secondary 
instruction.  Add  to  this  the  school  fees — about  ;^I2 
per  annum — and  the  total  expense  is  not  greater  than 
that  of  the  ordinary  boarding-school.  Hence  the 
boarding-out  system,  from  the  pecuniary  point  of  view, 
does  not  raise  the  same  objections  as  the  tutorial 
system.  The  difficulty  would  be  to  find  the  families 
(with  the  necessary  guarantees)  to  whom  the  children 
might  be  entrusted.  MM.  Breal  and  Raunid  think 
they  would  certainly  be  forthcoming.  The  parents  of 
day-boys  would  often  offer  to  receive  some  of  their 
boys'  school-fellows.  In  this  way  would  be  formed 
little  groups  of  scholars,  over  whom  the  adopted 
family  would  exercise  the  necessary  care  and  super- 
vision. 

The  day-school  system  leaves  to  the  family  its  share 
of  legitimate  and  necessary  action.  In  Paris  and  our 
great  towns  it  is  the  day-school  to  the  development  of 
which  our  main  attention  must  be  drawn. 

In  France  we  have  pushed  uniformity  to  the  verge 
of  eccentricity.  Why  should  all  our  lyceums  and 
schools  be  organised  on  the  same  type  ?  Why  should 
we  not  try  the  partial  introduction  into  France  of 
the  public  school,  the  tutorial,  and  the  boarding-out 
systems  ?  But,  at  the  same  time,  the  boarding-school 
must  be  reformed.  Discipline  must  be  relaxed ; 
children  must  be  allowed  to  talk  whenever  they  may 
talk  without  inconvenience ;  supervision  must  be 
improved  by  investing  those  to  whom  it  is  entrusted 
with  more  authority ;  mutual  discipline  must  be 
organised  by  monitors  and  pupils  of  high  standing. 

As  authority  based  on  capacity  is  the  only  authority 


THE   BOARDING-SCHOOL   QUESTION.  1 27 

that  is  not  factitious,  mattres  d'etudes  can  only  be 
retained  on  condition  that  they  are  really  repetition- 
masters — i.e.,  that  they  have  to  correct  exercises  and 
hear  lessons.  But  how  can  that  be  properly  done  in 
a  class  of  from  25  to  30  boys?  M.  Jules  Simon 
proposes  to  re-establish  in  France  the  long-abandoned 
system  of  entrusting  parts  of  the  supervision  to  the 
boys.  This  proposal  arouses  the  cry  of,  "  Oh,  that  is 
espionage ! "  "  Not  at  all,"  replies  M.  Simon  ;  "  there 
is  no  such  thing  as  open  espionage."  Give  the  boys 
the  sergeant-major's  stripes,  and  extend  into  school 
hours  the  authority  entrusted  to  them  at  other  times. 
There  is  no  espionage  in  that,  nor  is  good-fellowship 
affected.  As  soon  as  ever  such  a  small  degree  of  super- 
vision is  entrusted  to  the  head  boys,  the  duties  of 
supervision  will  be  changed  in  the  eyes  of  the  whole 
school,  and  the  repetition-masters  will  be  able  to  take 
their  share  without  loss  of  dignity.  "  I  have  seen  this 
plan  in  working  order  on  a  very  large  scale,"  adds  M. 
Simon.  "  We  had  only  one  preparation-master  for  60 
or  more  boys ;  but  in  each  form  a  boy  was  entrusted 
with  the  maintenance  of  discipline,  and  he  acquitted 
himself  of  his  duties  admirably,  without  losing  caste 
or  being  the  worse  thought  of  for  it.  No  difficulty 
occurred  if  the  master  went  out ;  silence  prevailed  as 
if  he  were  in  the  room.  It  is  all  a  question  of  habit. 
Military  rank  is  a  very  good  instrument  for  the  attain- 
ment of  this  end."  It  is  important  that  we  should 
realise  that  we  are  almost  the  only  European  nation 
who  do  not  utilise  the  elder  boys  in  the  maintenance 
of  discipline  among  their  younger  school-fellows.  It 
is  of  Course  true  that  the  Frenchman  is  so  undiscip- 
lined by  nature ! 

Again,  we  must  reform  in  the  matter  of  walking. 


128  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

In  the  days  of  the  Jesuits,  and  in  most  of  the  Catholic 
schools,  long  walks  were  rather  frequently  taken.  A 
rendezvous  was  appointed — an  old  castle,  a  remark- 
able site,  the  sea  coast,  etc.  Generally  a  lunch  was 
served  on  the  grass,  or  even  supper  if  weather  per- 
mitted. A  long  walk  was  always  necessary  before 
the  goal  was  reached,  but  it  was  done  merrily,  and 
the  very  fatigue  became  a  pleasure.  "  I  thought  of 
introducing  this  plan  into  our  schools,"  says  M.  Simon ; 
"  I  thought  of  giving  our  walks  an  instructive  object."^ 

^  M.  Simon  thinks  that  if  the  weather  is  uncertain,  and  the  country 
impossible,  the  boys  should  go  to  the  museum  at  the  Louvre,  some- 
times with  a  drawing-master,  but  in  most  cases  with  the  master  who 
teaches  history  or  literature.  "  Another  day  we  might  have  visited 
Cluny,  La  Monnaie,  the  Fine  Art  Schools.  The  history-master  might 
have  taken  us  to  the  National  Library  to  admire  the  books,  manuscripts, 
medals,  stamps,  and  the  palace  itself,  so  full  of  memories  of  Mazarin. 
There  is  always  something  to  teach,  even  if  we  do  nothing  but  walk 
about  the  streets  of  a  town  so  often  the  scene  of  the  most  important 
events  in  French  history.  Notre  Dame,  in  the  heart  of  Paris,  teems 
with  lessons.  This  building  alone  teaches  us  half  the  history  of 
France.  There  Henry  IV.  went  to  hear  the  Te  Deum  immediately 
after  his  return  to  Paris ;  there,  too,  after  the  abjuration  of  Gobel,  was 
inaugurated  the  worship  of  the  goddess  Reason.  In  the  square  of  the 
Hotel  de  Ville,  or  rather  in  one  of  its  corners,  for  our  fathers  liked  to 
crowd  together,  they  used  to  hang,  draw  and  quarter,  break  on  the 
wheel,  torture,  and  burn.  There  many  a  bonfire  has  blazed.  There 
have  been  heard  cries  of  '  Vive  le  Roi ! '  to  all  the  kings  of  France ; 
there,  too,  cries  of  *Vive  la  Ripublique  V  to  every  provisional 
government ;  until  at  length,  on  a  day  of  eternal  shame,  the  Palace  of 
the  Ville  de  Paris  was  converted  into  a  sinister  ruin.  Going  up  the 
Rue  St.  Antoine  we  find  no  traces  of  either  the  Hotel  St.  Paul  nor  of 
the  Bastille.  Etiam  peritre  ruinae»  We  should  have  summoned 
around  the  H6tel  Rambouillet  the  shades  of  the  great  Corneille, 
Chapelain,  and  Voiture.  We  should  have  visited  the  room  in  which 
Voltaire  died,  the  street  in  which  Jean  Jacques  Rousseau  lived,  the 
street  where  Moliere  was  born,  the  spot  whither  his  body  was  carried, 
in  doubt  if  a  corner  could  be  obtained  as  a  resting-place  for  his 
remains.  Paris,  a  town  of  eternal  agitation,  allows  all  its  relics  to  be 
destroyed,  either  by  the  weather  or  by  rioters,  nay,  sometimes  at  the 


THE   BOARDING-SCHOOL   QUESTION.  J 29 

The  country  ought  to  be  an  especial  attraction  to 
children  ;  in  it  they  should  lay  up  a  store  of  good 
spirits  and  health. 

In  geological  walks,  the  master  before  starting 
gathers  the  boys  together,  and  in  twenty  minutes 
gives  them  a  few  general  notions  on  the  district  they 
are  going  to  study ;  then  each  takes  his  hammer  and 
his  bag,  and  they  rush  off  to  get  in  the  open  air  a 
lesson,  the  recollection  of  which  will  never  be  effaced. 
The  sciences  of  facts — history,  natural  history,  and 
geography — are  learned  by  the  eye.  Montaigne  was 
not  content  with  walks  for  his  pupils  :  like  Locke,  he 
wanted  real  travels.^  Nothing  could  be  easier  and 
less  expensive,  as  Bouillier  has  shown,  than  the 
journey  from  one  lyceum  to  another,  to  the  sea  or 
mountains,  to  a  town  full  of  interest,  from  Paris  to 
the  provinces,  or  from  the  provinces  to  Paris,  putting 
up  all  along  the  road  at  the  schools  and  lyceums, 
which  would  be  like  so  many  free  inns;  the  school- 
boy's uniform — as  in  the  army — ensuring  reduced 
railway  fares.     Mutual  hospitality  between  the  schools 

expense  of  its  magistrates.  It  scatters  broadcast  neither  statues  nor 
inscriptions ;  and  all  this  makes  one  more  reason  for  piously  following 
up  the  traces  of  history — campos  ubi  Troja.  Even  to  understand  the 
history  of  the  Revolution  we  have  to  take  into  account  the  subsequent 
changes  in  Paris.  If  we  are  unaware  that  between  the  Louvre  and  the 
Tuileries  lay  a  whole  quarter,  theatres,  palaces,  a  market,  a  hostelry 
for  pages,  and  two  barracks,  how  can  the  events  of  the  loth  of  August 
be  explained  ?  How  many  Parisians  know  where  the  Convention  sat  ? 
or  where  the  Salle  de  Feuillants  or  the  Salle  de  Jacobins  were  situated? 
Medical  students  who  visit  the  Dupuytren  Museum  do  not  know  it 
was  once  the  Club  of  the  Cordeliers.  Does  the  obelisk  between  the 
Champs-Elysees  and  the  Tuileries  hide  or  mark  the  site  of  the  revolu- 
tionary scaffold  ?  " 

^  **  le  vouldrois  qu'on  commen9east  a  promener  I'enfant  dez  sa  tendre 
enfance  par  les  nations  voysines  ou  le  langage  est  plus  esloingue  du 
nostre.  .  .  ."—Montaigne,  Essais,  bk.  i.,  chap.  xxv.    (Tr.) 


130  EDUCATION    AND   HEREDITY. 

on  these  travels  would  take  the  place  of  payment. 
The  boarding-schools  should  be  established  outside 
the  towns,  and — if  practicable — on  the  hills  :  if  we 
had,  as  they  have  in  England  and  Germany,  great 
schools  far  in  the  country,  near  forests,  or  better  still 
on  the  heights  of  the  Dauphin^  or  on  the  Pyrenees, 
fashion  would  eventually  make  them  the  homes  of 
education  for  the  wealthy  classes.  In  this  way  we 
could  combat  the  degeneration  of  the  middle  classes, 
which  is  much  more  rapid  in  France  than  elsewhere, 
because  the  custom  of  restricting  the  number  of 
children  of  itself  is  sufficient  to  check  natural  selec- 
tion of  the  higher  qualities. 

Others  might  be  established  near  the  large  towns, 
but  always  in  the  country,  and  within  easy  reach 
by  rail  or  tram.  The  companies  would  give  to 
pupils  and  masters,  on  the  presentation  of  satisfactory 
certificates,  school  season-tickets  at  extremely  reduced 
rates,  as  is  already  done  in  a  few  places  in  France  and 
everywhere  in  Belgium  and  Germany.  Daily  special 
trains,  like  the  children's  Sunday  trains  from  Paris  to 
Vanves,  Fontenay,  etc.,  might  be  organised  to  take 
children  to  a  place  in  the  morning  and  bring  them 
back  in  the  evening.  In  this  way  the  difficulties 
arising  from  both  children  and  masters  living  at  a 
distance  from  the  school  would  be  removed. 


III.   The  Question  of  Overpressure, 

The  question  of  overpressure  has  long  divided  and 
passionately  excited  men  of  intellect. 

Spencer  justly  remarks  that  "  in  all  businesses  and 
professions,   intense   competition    taxes  the  energies 


THE   QUESTION   OF   OVERPRESSURE.  I31 

and  abilities  of  every  adult.  .  .  .  The  damage  is  thus 
doubled.  Fathers,  who  find  themselves  run  hard  by 
their  multiplying  competitors,  and,  while  labouring 
under  this  disadvantage,  have  to  maintain  a  more 
expensive  style  of  living,  are  all  the  year  round 
obliged  to  work  early  and  late,  taking  little  exercise 
and  getting  but  short  holidays.  The  constitutions 
shaken  by  this  continual  over -application  they 
bequeath  to  their  children.  And  then  these  com- 
paratively feeble  children,  predisposed  to  break  down, 
even  under  ordinary  strains  on  their  energies,  are 
required  to  go  through  a  curriculum  much  more 
extended  than  that  prescribed  for  the  unenfeebled 
children  of  past  generations.  The  disastrous  con- 
sequences which  might  be  anticipated  are  everywhere 
visible,"  especially  in  the  case  of  girls,  and  they  are 
accumulated  by  heredity.  "  In  a  child  or  youth  the 
demands  upon  this  vital  energy  are  various  and 
urgent;  .  .  the  waste  consequent  on  the  day's 
bodily  exercise  has  to  be  met;  the  wear  of  brain 
entailed  by  the  day's  study  has  to  be  made  good; 
a  certain  additional  growth  of  body  has  to  be  pro- 
vided for;  and  also  a  certain  additional  growth  of 
brain ;  to  which  must  be  added  the  amount  of  energy 
absorbed  in  digesting  the  large  quantity  of  food 
required  for  meeting  these  many  demands.  Now, 
that  to  divert  an  excess  of  energy  into  any  one  of 
these  channels  is  to  abstract  it  from  the  others  is 
both  manifest  ^  priori^  and  proved  i  posteriori  by 
the  experience  of  every  one.  .  ,  .  Every  one  knows 
that  excess  of  bodily  exercise  diminishes  the  power 
of  thought — that  the  temporary  prostration  following 
any  sudden  exertion,  or  the  fatigue  produced  by  a 
thirty  miles'  walk,  is  accompanied  by  a  disinclination 


132  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

to  mental  effort ;  that,  after  a  month's  pedestrian 
tour,  the  mental  inertia  is  such  that  some  days  are 
required  to  overcome  it ;  and  that  in  peasants  who 
spend  their  lives  in  muscular  labour  the  activity  of 
mind  is  very  small.  .  .  .  During  those  fits  of  rapid 
growth  which  sometimes  occur  in  childhood,  the  great 
abstraction  of  energy  is  shown  in  an  attendant  pros- 
tration, bodily  and  mental.  .  .  .  Violent  muscular 
exertion  after  eating  will  stop  digestion ;  children 
who  are  early  put  to  hard  labour  become  stunted;" 
these  facts  "similarly  imply  that  excess  of  activity 
in  one  direction  involves  deficiency  of  it  in  other 
directions.  Now,  the  law  which  is  thus  manifest  in 
extreme  cases,  holds  in  all  cases.  These  injurious 
abstractions  of  energy  as  certainly  take  place 
when  the  undue  demands  are  slight  and  constant, 
as  when  they  are  great  and  sudden.  Hence,  if 
during  youth  the  expenditure  in  mental  labour 
exceeds  that  which  nature  has  provided  for,  the 
expenditure  for  other  purposes  falls  below  what  it 
should  have  been  ;  and  evils  of  one  kind  or  other 
are  inevitably  entailed.  .  .  .  The  brain,  which  during 
early  years  is  relatively  large  in  mass  but  imperfect 
in  structure,  will,  if  required  to  perform  its  functions 
with  undue  activity,  undergo  a  structural  advance 
greater  than  is  appropriate  to  its  age ;  but  the 
ultimate  effect  will  be  a  falling  short  of  the  size 
and  power  that  would  else  have  been  attained.  And 
this  is  a  part  cause — probably  the  chief  cause — why 
precocious  children,  and  youths  who  up  to  a  certain 
time  were  carrying  all  before  them,  so  often  stop 
short  and  disappoint  the  hopes  of  their  parents.  .  .  . 
Various  degrees  and  forms  of  bodily  derangement, 
often  taking  years  of  enforced  idleness  to  set  partially 


THE  QUESTION   OF   OVERPRESSURE.  1 33 

right,  result  from  this  prolonged  over-exertion  of 
mind.  Sometimes  the  heart  is  chiefly  affected ; 
habitual  palpitations  ;  a  pulse  much  enfeebled  ;  and 
very  generally  a  diminution  in  the  number  of  beats 
from  seventy-two  to  sixty,  or  even  fewer.  Some- 
times the  conspicuous  disorder  is  of  the  stomach ; 
a  dyspepsia  which  makes  life  a  burden,  and  is  amen- 
able to  no  remedy  but  time.  In  many  cases  both 
heart  and  stomach  are  implicated,  mostly  the  sleep 
is  short  and  broken.  And  very  generally  there  is 
more  or  less  mental  depression.  Excessive  study 
is  a  terrible  mistake,  from  whatever  point  of  view 
regarded.  It  is  a  mistake  in  so  far  as  the  mere 
acquirement  of  knowledge  is  concerned.  For  the 
mind,  like  the  body,  cannot  assimilate  beyond  a 
certain  rate ;  and  if  you  ply  it  with  facts  faster  than 
it  can  assimilate  them,  they  are  soon  rejected  again: 
instead  of  being  built  into  the  intellectual  fabric  they 
fall  out  of  recollection.  ...  It  is  a  mistake  too, 
because  it  tends  to  make  study  distasteful;  ...  it 
is  a  mistake  also,  inasmuch  as  it  assumes  that  the 
acquisition  of  knowledge  is  everything ;  and  forgets 
that  a  much  more  important  thing  is  the  organisa- 
tion of  knowledge,  for  which  time  and  spontaneous 
thinking  are  requisite.  ...  It  is  not  the  knowledge 
stored  up  as  intellectual  fat  which  is  of  value ;  but 
that  which  is  turned  into  intellectual  muscle.  ...  A 
comparatively  small  and  ill-made  engine,  worked  at 
high  pressure,  will  do  more  than  a  large  and  well- 
finished  one  working  at  low  pressure.  What  folly 
it  is,  then,  while  finishing  the  engine,  so  to  damage 
the  boiler  that  it  will  not  generate  steam  ! "  ^ 

The  overpressure   of  which  Spencer  complains    is 

*  Spencer,  Education y  chap,  iv.,  pp.  174-186, /^zw////.     (Tr.) 


134  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

much  more  exceptional  in  England  than  in  France, 
where  it  may  be  said  to  be  the  rule.  The  pupils  of  the 
lyceums  in  Paris  have  four  hours  daily  in  class,  and 
seven  hours  of  preparation  :  eleven  hours  altogether  ; 
and  those  who  take  up  rhetoric  and  philosophy  are 
allowed  an  additional  half-hour.  Eleven  and  a  half 
hours'  work  per  day  !  During  the  scanty  time  allowed 
for  recreation,  they  stop  in  a  corner  of  the  playground 
and  talk  together,  or  walk  about  like  "  grave  citizens." 
Of  games  of  ball  or  tennis  the  boys  in  our  lyceums 
know  nothing.  "Are  there  many  grown-up  men 
among  us  who  work  eleven  hours  a  day  ?  "  asks  M. 
Simon.  Quality  of  work  is  far  better  than  quantity. 
This  has  been  shown  experimentally  in  the  London 
schools.  Chad  wick,  inspector  of  either  schools  or  work- 
shops in  England,  was  one  of  the  founders  of  "  half- 
time"  schools.  His  experiment  in  London  was  as 
follows : — He  divided  the  boys  of  a  school  into  two 
series  of  almost  equal  strength — the  ist,  3rd,  Sth,  7th, 
and  2nd,  4th,  6th,  Sth,  etc.  One  of  the  series  worked 
all  day,  the  other  worked  half  the  day  ;  after  a  time 
they  were  set  to  work  together.  The  half-time  school 
often  beat  the  full-time  school ;  and  "  if  it  beat  it  at 
school- work,  it  d  fortiori  beat  it  in  games."  It  was 
shown  that  two  hours*  good  work  was  of  more  value 
than  four  hours'  indifferent  work.^ 

How  many  masters  have  the  boys  who  are  taught 
rhetoric  in  the  lyceums  of  Paris  ?  M.  Jules  Simon, 
formerly  Minister  of  Public  Instruction,  is  in  a  better 

^  In  1832  Chadwick  was  a  Chief  Commissioner  on  the  Poor  Law 
Commission,  and  in  1833  he  was  a  member  of  the  Central  Board  of 
the  Factory  Commission.  For  account  of  Sir  Edwin  Chadwick's  efforts, 
vide  Dr.  B.  W.  Richardson's  Health  of  Nations,  vol.  i.  See  also 
Matthew  Arnold,  Reports  on  Elementary  Schools  (1889),  pp.  58,  242. 
(Tr.) 


THE   QUESTION   OF   OVERPRESSURE.  1 35 

situation  to  tell  us  than  most  men.  First  of  all  there 
is  a  teacher  of  French  rhetoric,  and  then  a  teacher 
of  Latin  rhetoric.  The  former  teaches  five,  and  the 
latter  six  hours  a  week.  Then  the  mathematical 
master  has  two  hours,  chemistry  is  contented  with  one 
hour,  German  or  English  (at  choice)  one  hour  also ; 
the  history  master  takes  three  hours.  Each  of  the  six 
masters  has  a  very  full  syllabus.  "  For  example,  the 
master  of  French  rhetoric  does  not  merely  teach 
rhetoric;  he  also  gives  a  course  in  the  history  of 
French  literature.  Naturally  the  master  of  Latin 
rhetoric  does  the  same  with  Latin  literature.  Then 
come  the  German  and  English  masters,  who  teach  the 
history  of  their  respective  literatures;  indeed,  this  is 
the  best  part  of  their  work.  It  is  agreed  that  if  a  boy 
wants  to  know  English  or  German,  he  must  learn  it 
after  having  finished  his  other  work.  The  history 
master  teaches  history  and  geography,  but  with  such 
a  wealth  of  detail  and  such  marvellous  erudition,  that 
his  teaching  cannot  possibly  give  any  idea  of,  say, 
the  ensemble  of  a  country,  nor  of  the  sequence  of 
events."  What  can  the  boys  do  in  the  presence  of 
these  six  masters,  who  bring  them  a  number  of  "  theses 
on  French  authors,  Latin  authors,  Greek  authors, 
German  authors;"  interminable  demonstrations  in 
geometry  and  arithmetic  ;  the  endless  nomenclature 
of  natural  history,  historical  facts  enough  to  make  a 
Benedictine  shudder.^  What  better  can  be  done  for 
this  boy  with  so  many  masters  than  to  store  up  in  his 
head  with  all  rapidity  these  fine  things  ?  If  he  takes 
the  trouble  to  ask  his  master  a  question  on  some  point 

^  An  allusion  to  the  pedantry  of  the  school-men.  Vide  Compayre, 
Histoire  Critique  des  Doctrines  de  V Education  en  France  (1885),  p.  70. 
(Tr.) 


136  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

as  it  occurs,  the  answer  is — "  Detail  !  what  more  do 
you  want?  There  is  no  time.  There  is  no  time."  If 
the  lad  should  ask  his  master  to  stop  a  moment  and 
explain  something  to  him,  the  master  is  already- 
several  ideas  ahead — he  would  never  catch  up  again  ; 
his  neighbour  and  competitor  would  have  stored  up  a 
dozen  ideas  while  he,  poor  fellow,  was  stopping  at  the 
first :  he  would  be  bottom  of  the  class  !  "  When  he  is 
stuffed  and  crammed  in  this  way,  when  he  has  piled 
up  and  pressed  down  all  his  mental  stock,  the  moment 
comes  when  he  has  to  admit — *  there  is  no  more 
room  ! '  but  the  master  is  behind  him  and  cries — *  A 
little  courage !  only  about  fifty  more  facts  and  a 
mere  dozen  or  so  of  proofs.*  The  net  result  is  that 
our  boys  at  the  lyceums  are  crammed  with  ideas  they 
do  not  understand,  and  with  facts  over  which  they 
have  no  control.  Are  the  facts  true  ?  are  the  ideas 
false  ?  That  is  not  their  business.  They  have  to 
keep  them  in  their  heads,  not  to  criticise  them.  A  jury 
of  masters  is  impanelled,  gorgeous  in  rose  or  yellow 
silk  hoods ;  they  summon  the  delinquents,  and  make 
them  draw  numbers  by  lot.  *  Gentlemen,  each  num- 
ber has  fifty  facts  to  repeat'  If  a  candidate  answers, 
*  I  know  sixty ' — which  is  very  rare — he  is  hailed  the 
first."  And  afterwards? — this  bachelor,  licentiate,  or 
doctor,  what  is  he  ?  A  store-house,  with  its  boxes 
and  shelves  crammed  with  all  sorts  of  ideas  of  which 
he  does  not  know  the  value,  and  facts  of  which  he 
does  not  know  the  authenticity ;  his  memory  is  so 
overloaded  that  when  he  tries  to  live,  dragging  this 
load  behind  him,  he  spills  the  contents  on  his  way 
through  life.  His  memory  becomes  a  blank  ;  but  as 
it  was  cultivated  at  the  expense  of  all  else,  and  as  it 
is  clear  the  rest  never  existed,  once  his  store  is  lost. 


THE   QUESTION   OF   OVERPRESSURE.  1 37 

he  has  no  means  of  renewing  it ;  he  has  neither 
energy  nor  method  to  study  alone,  nor  judgment  to 
see  for  himself  and  appreciate,  nor  will  to  form  a 
resolution.  He  is  a  baccalaureus,  not  a  man  ;  for  what 
is  man,  if  he  be  not  judgment  and  will  ?  And,  adds 
Jules  Simon,  the  master  is  himself  the  first  victim  of 
this  mandarin  system.  They  begin  by  imposing  on 
him  the  programmes  of  work  he  imposes  on  the 
children  ;  and  before  robbing  the  latter  of  their 
liberty,  they  take  very  good  care  to  deprive  the 
former  of  it.  The  greatest  crime  a  master  can  com- 
mit in  class  is  to  be  himself ;  if  he  is  so  unfortunate 
as  not  to  follow  the  syllabus  exactly,  and  not  to  con- 
form blindly  to  official  instructions  and  circulars,  he 
is  lost.  He  is  conceited,  and  will  never  get  on,  and  is 
lucky  if  he  does  not  lose  his  employment.  "  I  do  not 
attack  him,"  adds  M.  Simon  ;  *'  on  the  contrary,  I  am 
sorry  for  him,  for  in  reality  he  is  not  in  the  class-room, 
where  he  is  nailed  for  four  hours  a  day.  The  greatest 
reproach  I  can  utter  against  this  overpressure  is 
that  by  oppressing  the  masters  it  suppresses  them. 
I  cannot  help  feeling  that  these  boys  who  go  from 
French  Rhetoric  to  Latin  Rhetoric,  from  German  to 
History,  from  Chemistry  to  Mathematics,  are  left  to 
themselves.  They  are  not  helped  at  all,  because  they 
are  helped  by  too  many  people.  There  are  professors, 
but  no  teachers ;  there  are  students  and  an  audience, 
but  no  scholars  ;  there  is  instruction,  but  no  education. 
They  make  bachelors,  licentiates,  and  doctors,  but 
making  a  man  is  out  of  the  question  ;  on  the  con- 
trary, they  spend  fifteen  years  in  destroying  his  man- 
hood. What  do  they  turn  out  for  the  community  ? 
A  ridiculous  little  mandarin,  who  has  no  muscles  ;  who 
cannot  leap  a  gate  ;  who  cannot  give  his  elbows  play, 


138  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

or  fire  a  gun,  or  ride ;  who  is  afraid  of  everything.  But, 
on  the  other  hand,  he  is  crammed  with  every  kind  of 
useless  knowledge  ;  he  does  not  know  the  most  neces- 
sary things  ;  he  can  neither  give  advice  to  anybody 
else  nor  to  himself;  he  needs  guidance  in  everything  ; 
and  feeling  his  weakness,  and  having  lost  his  leading- 
strings,  he,  as  a  last  resource,  throws  himself  into 
State  socialism.  The  State  must  take  me  by  the 
hand  as  the  University  has  done  up  to  now.  It  has 
taught  me  nothing  but  passive  obedience.  A  citizen, 
did  you  say  ?  I  should  perhaps  be  a  citizen  if  I  were 
a  man." 

We  know  that  when  the  Academic  de  M^decine 
took  up  this  question,  M.  Peter  spoke  very  strongly 
on  overpressure.  The  University  course  is  not  made 
for  what  may  be  termed  the  average  intellectual 
capacity ;  they  rise  above  this  average,  and  daily, 
under  the  pretext  of  completing  the  programmes, 
make  them  still  more  impossible.  When  a  muscle  is 
fatigued  by  excess,  it  becomes  curved,  owing  to  the 
accumulation  of  the  products  of  disintegration  ;  simi- 
larly the  brain,  when  fatigued  beyond  measure,  is 
exposed  to  the  obstruction  caused  by  the  waste  of 
life,  to  a  real  curvature.  The  first  symptom  of 
this  state  is  violent  headache.  If  this  preliminary 
warning  receives  no  attention,  if  the  work  goes 
on  as  before,  if  the  curvature  increases,  the  head- 
ache becomes  periodic,  more  and  more  frequent, 
and  becomes  maddening  from  the  continued  intellec- 
tual strain.  A  kind  of  veil  is  drawn  over  the  intellect, 
and  the  ideas  get  entangled.  M.  Peter  sees  an 
analogy  between  this  and  writer's  cramp  in  the 
muscle,  a  functional  spasm  affecting  the  brain.  But 
this  is  only  the  beginning  of  pathological  phenomena. 


THE   QUESTION   OF   OVERPRESSURE.  1 39 

Cerebral  and  intellectual  overwork  is  almost  non- 
existent  in    the    primary    schools.^      In    secondary 

^  Overwork  may  exist  in  towns,  but  not  in  rural  schools.  In  the 
latter  the  children  do  too  little  home-work,  and  are  too  often  absent 
to  feel  brain  fatigue.  The  dangers  really  existing  in  the  village  school 
do  not  arise  from  overpressure,  but  from  staying  in  a  necessarily 
vitiated  atmosphere.  That  is  the  danger,  and  this  is  the  remedy.  Com- 
pel every  backward  and  refractory  commune  to  provide  proper  school 
buildings,  large  enough  for  the  demand,  and  provided  with  good 
apparatus.  On  the  other  hand,  I  may  append  a  few  rules  that,  if 
followed,  would  prevent  fatigue  in  the  children  in  primary  schools : — 
**  Rules  formulated  by  the  Society  d'Hygiene  de  Geneve  {Revue  Peda- 
gogique,  March  15th).  The  first  hours  in  morning  school  should  be 
devoted  to  those  subjects  demanding  most  intellectual  effort.  Lessons 
should  be  broken  off  every  hour  for  recreation,  allowing  each  pupil 
opportunity  for  bodily  exercise. "  The  regulations  in  France  do  not  allow 
of  recreation  every  hour ;  but  motions  with  the  arms  might  be  gone 
through,  the  children  standing  in  their  places.  **  In  general,  the 
master  should  stop  teaching  as  soon  as  he  sees  signs  of  fatigue  or 
excitement  in  the  children,  and  should  let  them  rest  a  few  moments. 
All  lessons  should  be  arranged  so  as  to  be  alternately  active  or  passive 
— /.^.,  the  children  should  be  called  upon  to  speak,  listen,  and  apply 
the  teaching  given.  Long  written  exercises  should  be  avoided.  Child- 
ren should  only  be  required  to  learn  what  they  thoroughly  understand. 
The  home-lessons  should  be  as  limited  as  possible.  They  should  be  in 
proportion  to  the  child's  age,  they  should  be  such  as  can  be  done  with 
delight  and  pleasure,  and  should  satisfy  the  demands  of  quality  rather 
than  of  quantity.  Impositions  should  as  a  rule  be  prohibited,  and  in 
any  case  should  appeal  to  the  intellect  of  the  child." 

The  Academic  de  Medecine  appointed  a  Commission  to  find  a  remedy 
for  intellectual  overpressure.  This  Commission  drew  up  a  report ;  the 
principal  items  affecting  primary  education  were  as  follows : — From 
three  to  eight  hours  per  day,  according  to  the  child's  age,  should  be  the 
limit  of  intellectual  work.  Twenty  to  thirty  minutes  should  be  the 
outside  length  of  each  lesson  for  children ;  the  syllabus  should  be 
reduced  in  proportion  to  the  length  of  the  lessons  and  time  of  prepara- 
tion ;  at  present  the  examinations  cover  far  too  wide  a  ground,  are  too 
encyclopsedic;  partial  and  frequent  examinations  should  be  substituted 
for  them,  limiting  the  intellectual  strain,  and  allowing  the  intellect  time 
to  assimilate  the  knowledge  acquired.  It  is  necessary  to  devote, 
according  to  age,  from  six  to  ten  hours  a  day  to  physical  exercise 
(games,  walks,  drill,  etc.). 


140  EDUCATION    AND   HEREDITY. 

schools  it  affects  about  one-third  of  the  pupils,  those 
who  wish  to  reach  the  top  of  the  class,  who  are  pre- 
paring for  an  examination,  or  for  entrance  to  a  State 
school.^  But  in  spite  of  this  a  certain  amount  of 
overpressure  obtains,  even  among  the  masters,  and 
this  is  due  to  the  length  of  the  lessons,  and  to  the 
sitting  for  too  long  a  period  in  a  close  atmosphere. 
Even  if  they  do  nothing,  it  makes  no  difference  ;  the 
mere  effort  of  sitting  still  fatigues  and  exhausts. 
Finally,  it  is  very  fortunate  that  there  are  idle  people ; 
they  save  the  race  from  too  rapid  degeneration. 

In  England  the  number  of  hours  of  brain-work  is 
about  half  as  much  as  in  France.  The  most  hard- 
working schools  require  no  more  than  seven  or  eight 
hours  per  day ;  others  are  content  with  six. 

^  Although  at  the  Central  School  of  Arts  and  Manufactures  the  pupils 
work  only  seven  hours  at  school,  they  have  to  work  four  or  five  hours, 
or  even  more,  at  home.  In  the  Ecole  Polytechnique,  lessons  and  pre- 
paration last  eleven  hours  and  a  half,  and  during  the  time  allowed  for 
recreation  the  hard-working  pupils  go  to  the  library.  In  the  lyceums 
for  young  girls,  and  in  the  classes  for  teachers,  the  work  is  equally 
excessive. 

When  we  see  from  25,000  to  30,000  young  men  and  women,  with  no 
means  and  unable  to  get  work  in  spite  of  having  had  technical  instruc- 
tion, we  regret  that  with  this  instruction  they  were  not  taught  a  trade 
or  handicraft,  which,  while  preventing  overpressure  and  a  sedentary 
life  during  school-days,  might  have  eventually  placed  them,  if  occasion 
arose,  out  of  danger  of  want.  '*  As  instruction  in  the  army  and  the 
schools  is  compulsory,"  says  M.  Lagneau,  "  the  Minister  of  War  and 
the  Minister  of  Education  should  arrange  that  gymnastics,  fencing, 
swimming,  riding,  walking,  the  handling  of  arms,  military  manoeuvres, 
coming  between  the  intellectual  work  of  class  and  preparation,  and 
preventing  overwork  and  sedentary  habits,  should  count  with  science 
and  letters  in  the  winning  of  diplomas  and  certificates,  and  should 
decrease  the  period  of  compulsory  military  service.  But  a  law  analo- 
gous to  that  of  May  19th,  1874,  is  necessary,  restraining  excessive 
manual  labour  of  children  in  factories,  and  equally  restraining  excessive 
intellectual  labour  of  children  and  young  people  in  all  educational 
establishments." 


THE   QUESTION   OF   OVERPRESSURE.  141 

Germany  also  may  be  taken  as  a  model,  but  not  so 
much  for  reduction  as  for  division  of  work.  This 
accounts  for  Bersot's  saying :  "  When  I  saw  the 
German  lessons  interrupted  every  hour  or  every  three- 
quarters  of  an  hour  by  recreation,  I  was  ashamed  of 
our  barbarity  in  shutting  up  children  in  a  class-room 
for  three  hours  on  end — three  hours  in  the  morning, 
and  three  in  the  afternoon — at  an  age  which  is  intoxi- 
cated with  life;  and  I  cannot  understand  how  it  came 
about  that  French  children — the  most  restless  in  the 
world — were  ever  subjected  to  this  r^gimer  Two 
private  institutions,  the  Ecole  Monge  and  the  Ecole 
Alsacienne,  have  set  the  example.  At  the  fecole 
Monge,  for  instance,  the  eleven  and  a  half — nay,  even 
twelve — hours  per  day  of  the  boy  at  the  lyceum  are 
reduced  to  nine  ;  the  younger  boys  only  work  seven 
hours  and  a  half  The  longest  spell  of  work  without 
a  break  is  two  hours  and  a  half  Every  boy  at  the 
Ecole  Monge  gives  half-an-hour  per  day  to  gym- 
nastics ;  this  is  three  times  more  than  is  allowed  in 
our  lyceums.^ 

The  advantage,  in  the  competition  of  races  and 
individuals  alike,  is  not  only,  nor  perhaps  even 
mainly,  on  the  side  of  superiority  of  knowledge  ;  it 
especially  depends  on  the  ample  provision,  natural  or 
acquired,  of  physical  energy  and  intellectual  good 
sense,  which  alone  can  give  knowledge  its  full 
value.  Hence  the  Commission  d'Hygiene,  inspired 
by  the  example  of  the  United  States,  is  right  in 
bearing  in  mind  the  American  rule  of  the  three 
eights — 8  hours  sleep  -|-  8  hours  work  -\-  8  hours 
freedom  =  24  hours.     "  We  think,"  reported  the  Com- 

^   Vide  M.  Burdeau,  V Ecole  Monge, 


142  EDUCATION    AND    HEREDITY. 

mission,  "  that  this  is  an  excellent  rule,  and  that  eight 
hours'  work  should  be  considered  a  maximum  which 
the  children  of  primary  schools  should  never  reach, 
and  which  the  children  of  other  schools  should  never 
exceed.  The  length  of  a  lesson  should  be  reduced  to 
an  hour  and  a  half."^ 

Games  must  be  multiplied,  and  carried  on  with 
more  life.^ 

Finally,  it  is  all-important  to  encourage  bodily 
exercise,  so  necessary  for  individual  and  race  alike. 
In  his  Emilef  Jean-Jacques  Rousseau  gave  an 
impulse  in  favour  of  these  exercises  to  a  movement 
which  was  propagated  especially  in  Germany,  where, 
developed  by  national  and  warlike  aspirations  during 
the  War  of  Independence,  the  present  system  of 
German  gymnastics   came   into   existence.      To   the 

^  Out  of  each  lesson  two  hours  long,  at  least  from  thirty-five  to  forty 
minutes  are  wasted.  Further,  the  child  of  eleven  and  the  youth  of 
eighteen  are  subjected  to  the  same  rigime.  Tasks  and  home-work  in 
the  lower  classes  are  by  an  abuse  made  to  fill  up  the  whole  of  the 
child's  day.  Evening  work  begins  about  five  and  ends  at  half-past 
seven  or  a  quarter  to  eight.  Two  whole  hours  and  a  half  are  given  up 
to  an  exercise,  translation,  or  problem  in  mathematics. 

^  They  never  play,  at  least  in  forms  above  the  third ;  they 
walk  round  a  dismal  courtyard,  generally  treeless,  from  right  to  left — 
not  from  left  to  right — in  certain  lyceums,  where  gyratory  motion 
sinistrorsum  is  considered  as  antagonistic  to  discipline.  This  is  Dr. 
Gauthier's  statement.  They  never  sing;  shouting  is  a  breach  of 
discipline,  or  barely  tolerated;  it  fatigues  the  ears  of  the  master,  or 
whoever  does  the  supervision.  Games  of  ball,  bowls,  skipping,  leap- 
frog, quoits,  etc.,  etc.,  are  quite  unknown.  The  boys  walk  round  and 
round  the  narrow  cages  known  as  the  playground;  "they  crouch  in 
the  corners  if  it  is  cold  or  wet.  Justly  do  the  managers  of  sectarian 
schools  prefer  violent  games  in  which  the  staff  take  part,  to  the 
malicious  and  suspicious  gossip  that  goes  on  in  other  schools." 
Further,  this  recreation  time  is  only  two  and  a  half  hours  for  the  little 
fellows,  and  only  an  hour  and  a  half  for  the  bigger  boys. 

'^  Book  ii.,/^wm.     (Tr.) 


THE   QUESTION   OF   OVERPRESSURE.  I43 

latter  system  is   now  opposed  a  theoretical   form  of 
bodily  exercise, — Swedish  gymnastics, — of  which  the 
fundamental   idea    is    the    necessity   of    "confining 
exercise   to   movements,   really  very   varied,   but   as 
simple  as   possible."      These    movements,    exercised 
against  determinate  resistances,  ought  "to  methodically 
strengthen  each  individual  muscle,  and  to  enable  the 
subject  to  attain  the  ideal  of  muscular  development." 
German   gymnastics    have   been    attacked    from   the 
point  of  view  of  the  English  and  their  sports.     Until 
quite  recently  the  English  have  had  nothing  analo- 
gous to  German  gymnastics.     Separated  more  than 
ever  from  the  Continent  during  the  French  revolution 
and  the  Empire,  they  have  been  almost  unaware  of 
the  movement  initiated  by  Rousseau.    The  aspirations 
of  Jahn,  which  bore  more  or  less  the  stamp  of  German 
.  chauvinism,   could   find   no   entrance   into   England. 
But  the  English,  as  Dubois-Reymond  points  out,  felt 
the  need   of  gymnastics   far   less    than    continental 
nations.     Thanks  to  the  country  life  of  the  wealthy 
classes,  and  the  common  life  of  young  people  educated 
in  the  great  public  schools,  the  numerous  contests  and 
national  games  referred  to  above  have  been   intro- 
duced,  which,   by   the    variety   of    the     movements 
required,  are  an    admirable  exercise   for   the  body  : 
the  English  mountain-climbers  who   have   ascended 
Chimborazo    are    an    excellent    instance    in    point. 
The  impassioned  interest  exhibited  throughout  Great 
Britain  in  the  annual  boat-race  between  Oxford  and 
Cambridge — the   "  dark-blues  "  and    "  light-blues  " — 
can  only  be  compared  to  the  enthusiasm  aroused  in 
the  Greeks  by  their  national  games  ;  it  excites  youth 
to  greater  efforts. 

If,  with  the  knowledge  we  now  have  of  the  different 


144  EDUCATION    AND   HEREDITY. 

kinds  of  bodily  exercise,  we  proceed  to  form  an 
opinion  upon  the  relative  value  of  the  three  forms — 
German  gymnastics,  Swedish  gymnastics,  and  English 
sports,  we  may  first  of  all  remark  that  the  second  of 
the  three  is  of  little  use  in  the  bodily  development 
of  healthy  youth.  ^  Bodily  exercise,  says  Dubois- 
Reymond,  is  not  merely  muscular  exercise,  as  super- 
ficial observers  wrongly  suppose  ;  but  it  is  what  is  of 
far  greater  importance — an  exercise  of  the  grey  matter 
of  the  central  nervous  system.  This  alone  condemns 
the  Swedish  system  from  the  physiological  point  of 
view.  The  system  may  strengthen  the  muscles,  but  it 
does  not  give  facility  in  complex  movements.  "  We 
may  even  suppose  the  case  of  a  physical  training 
which  would  give  to  the  muscles  of  a  Caspar  Hauser 
gigantic  strength,  while  at  the  same  time  the  victim 
of  the  experiment  would  be  unable  even  to  walk. 
Swedish  gymnastics  are  only  valuable  from  the 
therapeutic  point  of  view,  to  preserve  or  re-establish 
the  activity  of  certain  groups  of  muscles  (for  very  few 
muscles  can  be  contracted  singly  by  mere  will)."  ^ 

As  for  the  relative  value  of  German  gymnastics  and 
English  games,  the  latter  correspond  in  a  certain 
measure  to  the  requirements  deduced  from  physio- 
logical analysis.  They  make  men  skilful  in  running, 
leaping,  dancing,  wrestling,  riding,  swimming,  rowing, 
and  skating.  But,  according  to  Dubois-Reymond, 
German  gymnastics  afford  the  possibility  of  giving 
to  an  unlimited  number  of  pupils,  of  every  age  and 
condition,  the  opportunity  of  exercise  with  almost  a 

^  Vide  Article  on  "Gymnastics,"  Journal  of  Education,  March 
1891.     (Tr.) 

2  Dubois-Reymond,  VExercice. —  Vide  Lagrange,  L Hygiene  de 
VExercice,  1890,  part  v.,  chap,  i.,  pp.  273-286.     (Tr.) 


THE   QUESTION   OF   OVERPRESSURE.  T45 

minimum  of  apparatus,  and  independent  of  condi- 
tions which  are  often  impossible  to  obtain ;  and 
further,  it  has  the  moral  advantage  of  an  effort  which 
has  as  its  object  "  self-perfection  as  an  ideal  end,  with- 
out any  immediate  utility, — clearly  resembling  in  this 
the  intellectual  education  which  obtains  in  the  German 
gymnasiums;"  in  fact,  the  intelligent  choice  of  German 
exercises,  confirmed  and  corrected  by  experience, 
leads  to  a  much  greater  uniformity  in  the  develop- 
ment of  the  body  than  could  be  attained  if  the 
individual,  as  in  England,  obeying  his  inclinations,  and 
determined  by  any  circumstance  whatever,  devoted 
himself,  according  to  his  caprice  and  with  the  eager- 
ness given  by  ambition,  to  rowing,  or  riding,  or  tennis, 
or  climbing  mountains.  A  youth  trained  by  the 
German  method  possesses  the  great  advantage  of 
being  master  of  forms  of  movement  adapted  to  each 
position  of  the  body,  just  as  the  thoroughly-grounded 
mathematician  is  provided  with  methods  for  the 
solution  of  every  problem.  Besides,  nothing  prevents 
the  German  gymnast  from  passing  from  his  theoreti- 
cal exercises  to  any  practical  exercise  of  immediate 
utility.  "  As  he  has  learned  how  to  learn,  he  will 
rapidly  acquire  the  utmost  skill  attainable  from  his 
natural  disposition,  just  as  we  are  told  the  student 
from  the  gymnasium  very  soon  catches  up  to  the 
technical  student  in  the  laboratory." 

Moreover,  all  bodily  exercises  are  in  favour  among 
the  Germans  ;  riding,  cycling,  boating,  and  fencing 
are  much  more  popular  than  in  France  ;  the  State 
compels  two  hours  a  day  to  be  given  up  in  all  schools 
to  physical  exercise  under  the  direction  of  a  special 
teacher.  At  Berlin,  gymnastics  are  under  the  care  of 
a  Superintendent,  just  as  we  have  a    Head    of  the 

10 


146  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

University  in  Paris.  In  Germany  they  feel  that  a 
race  without  muscles,  with  nothing  but  nerves,  a  race 
in  which  cerebral  activity  is  dominant,  is  but  ill 
equipped  in  the  struggle  for  existence.^ 

English  games  do  not  deserve  the  strictures  passed 
upon  them  by  Dubois-Reymond  as  compared  with 
the  more  scientific  system  of  the  Germans  ;  the  latter 
is  far  too  much  like  a  lesson.  "  In  this,  as  in  other 
cases,  to  remedy  the  evils  of  one  artificiality,  another 
artificiality  has  been  introduced.  Natural  spontaneous 
exercise  having  been  forbidden,  and  the  bad  conse- 
quences of  no  exercise  having  become  conspicuous, 
a  system  of  what  Spencer  calls  *  factitious  exercise ' 
has  been  adopted.  That  this  is  better  than  nothing 
we  admit; 2  but  that  it  is  an  adequate  substitute  for 
games  we  deny."  The  defects  of  gymnastic  exercises 
"are  both  positive  and  negative.  In  the  first  place, 
these  formal  muscular  motions,  necessarily  less  varied 
than  those  accompanying  juvenile  sports,  do  not 
secure  so  equable  a  distribution  of  action  to  all  parts 
of  the  body;  whence  it  follows  that  the  exertion 
falling  on  special  parts  produces  fatigue  sooner  than 
it  would  else  have  done;  to  which,  in  passing,  let 
us  add,  that  if  constantly  repeated,  this  exertion  of 
special  parts  leads  to  a  disproportionate  development.^ 
The  quantity  of  exercise  thus  taken  will  be  deficient, 
and  that  not  merely  in  consequence  of  uneven  dis- 
tribution ;  for  there  will  be  a  further  deficiency  in 
consequence  of  lack  of  interest.  Even  when  not 
made  repulsive,  as  they  sometimes  are,  by  being 
to  all  intents  and  purposes  lessons,  these  monotonous 

*  Vide  Cambon,  De  France  en  Allemagne. 
2  Vide  Dubois-Reymond. 

*  Vide  Lagrange,  IJ Hygiene  et  f  Exercice,  part  v.,  chap.  ii.     (Tr.) 


THE  QUESTION    OF  OVERPRESSURE.  I47 

movements  are  sure  to  become  wearisome  from  the 
absence  of  amusement.  Competition,  it  is  true,  serves 
as  a  stimulus  ;  but  it  is  not  a  lasting  stimulus,  like 
the  enjoyment  accompanying  varied  play.  .  .  .  Besides 
being  inferior  in  respect  of  the  quantity  of  muscular 
exertion  which  they  secure,  gymnastics  are  still  more  in- 
ferior in  respect  of  the  quality.  This  comparative  want 
of  enjoyment  which  we  have  named  as  a  cause  of  early 
desistance  from  artificial  exercises,  is  also  a  cause  of 
inferiority  in  the  effects  they  produce  on  the  system. 
The  common  assumption,  that  so  long  as  the  amount 
of  bodily  action  is  the  same,  it  matters  not  whether  it 
be  pleasurable  or  otherwise,  is  a  grave  mistake.  An 
agreeable  mental  excitement  must  have  a  highly 
invigorating  influence.  See  the  effect  produced  on 
an  invalid  by  good  news,  or  by  the  visit  of  an  old 
friend.  Mark  how  careful  medical  men  are  to  recom- 
mend lively  society  to  debilitated  patients.  Remem- 
ber how  beneficial  to  health  is  the  gratification 
produced  by  change  of  scene.  The  truth  is  that 
happiness  is  the  most  powerful  of  tonics.  By  accel- 
erating the  circulation  of  the  blood,  it  facilitates  the 
performance  of  every  function,  and  so  tends  alike  to 
increase  health  when  it  exists  and  to  restore  it  when 
it  has  been  lost.  Hence  the  intrinsic  superiority  of 
play  to  gymnastics.  The  extreme  interest  felt  by 
children  in  their  games,  and  the  riotous  glee  with 
which  they  carry  on  their  rougher  frolics,  are  of  as 
much  importance  as  the  accompanying  exertion.  And, 
as  not  supplying  these  mental  stimuli,  gymnastics 
must  be  radically  defective.  Granting  then,  as  we  do, 
that  formal  exercises  of  the  limbs  are  better  than 
nothing — granting,  further,  that  they  may  be  used 
with    advantage    as    supplementary    aids ;    we    yet 


148  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

contend  that  they  can  never  serve  in  place  of  exercises 
prompted  by  Nature.  For  girls,  as  well  as  boys, 
the  sportive  activities  to  which  the  instincts  impel  arc 
essential  to  bodily  welfare."^ 

In  France  we  have  gone  too  far  in  making 
gymnastics  military.  Under  the  influence  of  a 
certainly  noble,  but  too  technical  idea,  there  is  an 
increasing  tendency  to  militarise  education.  What 
we  may  call  military  sport  as  opposed  to  games,  says 
M.  de  Coubertin,  will  never  make  good  citizens.  The 
numerous  sporting  and  gymnastic  societies  founded 
since  the  war  form,  we  cannot  deny,  a  valuable 
training-school  in  patriotism  and  discipline  ;  but,  on 
the  other  hand,  the  military  apparatus  with  which 
they  are  surrounded  is  likely  to  give  rise  to  narrow 
views,  and  to  stamp  out  that  individual  initiative,  the 
development  of  which  should  have  been  their  main 
object.  The  two  or  three  aquatic  societies  at  Paris 
are  far  more  useful  in  this  respect  than  the  thirty- 
three  gymnastic  societies  with  their  3041  members  in 
the  twenty  arrondissements  of  our  metropolis.^ 

M.  de  Laprade  asked  with  justifiable  amazement 
how  it  is  that  as  the  Greeks  are  deemed  worthy  of 
imitation  in  their  poetry,  sculpture,  philosophy,  and 
politics,  we  have  run  counter  to  their  system  on  the 
very  point  in  which  it  was  best — the  physical  educa- 
tion of  the  young.  If  we  reduce  the  hours  of  work 
to  eight,  and  allow  an  hour  and  a  half  for  meals, 
there  are  still  three  hours  and  a  half  for  recreation  and 
two  for  gymnastics.  Games  must  be  once  more  placed 
in  an  impregnable  and  honourable  position.  After 
borrowing  the  boarding-school   from  the  Jesuits,  we 

^  Spencer,  Education^  pp.  171,  172.     (Tr.) 
^  V Education  en  Angle terre. 


THE  QUESTION   OF   OVERPRESSURE.  I49 

should  be  wrong  not  to  borrow  also  its  corrective, 
which  they  have  had  the  wisdom  to  keep.  In  former 
days  games  and  bodily  exercise  had,  in  fact,  an 
important  place  in  their  colleges.  The  Jesuit  schools 
are  almost  the  only  schools  in  which  the  children 
play  and  run  as  of  old.  "  That  is  the  education  I 
want  to  borrow  from  the  reverend  fathers,"  says  M. 
Legouve,  "  the  education  of  the  legs." 

Unfortunately  it  is  useless  to  tell  children  to  play ; 
what  indeed  can  they  play  at  in  playgrounds  too 
small  for  one-sixth  of  their  number?  M.  Dupanloup 
tells  us  that  a  boy  said  to  him  one  day :  "  If  only 
you  knew,  sir,  how  it  bores  us  to  amuse  ourselves  that 
way!"  However,  things  are  so;  and  now  they  even 
set  a  game  (just  like  a  lesson),  and  give  tasks  and 
punishments  to  children  who  do  not  take  part  in 
them,  or  who  do  not  enter  into  them  with  sufficient 
zest.  Which  is  certainly  delightfully  ingenuous. 
Hence,  to  avoid  undeserved  punishment,  the  children 
learn  hypocrisy,  and  pretend  to  play  till  the  super- 
vision master  has  turned  his  back  and  they  can  renew 
the  interrupted  conversation. 

At  the  lyceum,  gymnastics  take  place  during  re- 
creation hours,  and  as  to  each  trapeze  there  are  many 
boys,  each  pupil  scarcely  has  a  chance  of  turning 
more  than  one  somersault  per  day,  and  of  course 
none  on  Thursday  and  Sunday.  "  Why  then,"  asks 
M.  Coubertin,  "is  not  the  gymnasium  always  open, 
giving  every  boy  an  opportunity  of  exercising  his 
biceps  when  he  takes  it  into  his  head  ?" 

In  summer  there  are  cold  baths — lasting  for  two 
months;  the  rest  of  the  year  there  are  no  baths. 
One  college  has  a  swimming  bath — the  lyceum 
at    Vanves,    a    school    remarkably    well    organised. 


ISO  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

Unfortunately  this  bath,  not  being  covered,  is  unused 
in  winter.  Take  a  corresponding  instance  in  England. 
"At  Harrow,"  says  M.  Coubertin,  "each  of  the  five 
hundred  boys  pays  about  twelve  francs  a  year  towards 
the  bath  :  this  is  not  dear.*'  To  return  to  games — 
the  exercise  par  excellence — on  the  rare  occasions  on 
which  French  schoolboys  have  been  left  undisturbed 
to  join  in  any  game  whatever,  the  zest  with  which 
they  engaged  in  their  amusement  has  been  very 
noticeable. 

What  our  schoolboys  lack  is  not  ardour  for  games, 
but  sufficient  space  for  their  gambols.  That  is  the 
real  difficulty.  Land  is  always  dear  in  the  towns ;  but, 
as  has  been  remarked,  nothing  prevents  provincial 
schools  from  taking  the  country  itself  as  their  play- 
ground. As  for  Paris,  the  State  might  well  allot  the 
necessary  space  on  public  ground,  and  the  railway 
companies  would  issue  tickets  to  squads  from  the 
lyceums  at  reduced  fares.^ 


IV.  Manual  Work  in  Schools. 

As  in  the  case  of  games,  manual  labour  has  its 
hygienic  effect,  and  serves  the  race  in  the  individual. 
In  England  there  are  workshops  everywhere,  in  which 
boys  engage  in  different  kinds  of  manual  labour, 
carpentry  and  metallurgy,  under  the  direction  of  a 

^  Since  this  book  was  written,  M.  Philippe  Daryl  has  written  an  excel- 
lent book  on  games  and  the  Renaissance  Physique^  and  a  society  has 
been  formed  for  the  physical  education  of  the  young.  The  Minister 
has  appointed  a  Commission  to  investigate  the  subject.  A  summary  of 
the  report  of  the  Commission  will  be  found  in  the  Journal  of  Educa- 
tion for  March  1891.     (Tr.) 


MANUAL   WORK   IN   SCHOOLS.  151 

skilled  workman.^  This  is  the  realisation  of  the  wish 
of  Jean-Jacques  Rousseau  f  but  the  latter  was  guided 
in  its  expression  by  a  sentiment  of  poetry  and 
equality, whereas  the  English  had  merely  "the  practical 
side  of  the  question  in  view — viz.,  the  advantage  of 
manual  training  in  fashioning  wood  and  iron."  The 
young  Americans  who,  in  the  University  of  Ithaca, 
read  high  mathematics,  philosophy,  or  history,  feel 
no  shame  at  spending  several  hours  of  every  day 
in  honourably  earning  the  necessary  funds  for  the 
acquisition  of  that  knowledge  which  may  in  the 
future  lead  them  to  the  highest  posts  in  the  State. 
In  1870  about  fifty  of  the  students  took  advantage 
of  the  opportunity  afforded  them.  The  University 
paid  ;^6oo  for  the  results  of  their  work,  and  the 
professors  noticed  that  those  who  devoted  themselves 
to  physical  labour  had  profited  by  the  lectures  equally 
with  the  rest  of  their  fellow-students.  Three  hours  of 
manual  labour  were  by  no  means  adverse  to  mental 
work.  In  French  primary  schools  manual  training 
has  been  introduced,  and  the  official  instructions  have 
advised  the  teachers  that  this  new  subject,  clearly 
conceived  apart  from  all  professional  prospects,  ought 
pre-eminently  to  have  as  its  object  the  giving  to  the 
child  manual  dexterity  in  the  elementary  use  of 
tools,  refinement  of  taste,  and  a  knowledge  of  the 
material  world  around  it.^  "  Manual  labour,"  said 
Emerson,  "is  the  study  of  the  external  world."  By 
manual  labour  in  the  schools  we  usually  understand 
the  use  of  the  principal  tools  in  the  working  of  iron 

'  This   statement,   it  is  to  be  hoped,  will  be   literally   true— after 
England  has  her  Intermediate  Act.     (Tr.) 
^  Emite,  bk.  iii.     (Tr.) 
^  Vuie Com)^2iyYij  Organisation  PeJagogiqus{i2>()i),^^  41,  178.    (Tr.) 


152  EDUCATION    AND   HEREDITY. 

and  wood.  The  real  object  of  this  work,  as  introduced 
in  general  education,  is  not  to  teach  the  child  a 
given  profession,  but  simply  to  develop  his  intellectual, 
aesthetic,  and  physical  faculties,  his  knowledge  of  real 
things,  and  his  skill.  The  carpenter's  shop  and  the 
blacksmith's  forge  may  be  employed  in  their  educa- 
tion without  our  wishing  to  turn  out  a  carpenter 
or  a  blacksmith.  Its  result  ought  especially  to  be 
to  familiarise  the  pupil  with  the  properties  of  wood 
and  iron,  to  accustom  his  eye  and  hand  to  work 
together,  to  accustom  him  to  accurate  measurements, 
in  fact,  to  teach  him  to  fashion  an  object  by  the  aid 
of  his  tools  and  with  delicate  taste,  with  no  help 
but  a  given  design.  The  discipline  of  the  workshop 
ought  to  be  considered  as  complementary  to  that 
of  the  drawing-class;  they  are  inseparable;  one  gives 
the  knowledge  oi  form^  the  other  familiarises  with 
matter.  To  suppose  that  the  best  teaching  is  what  we 
get  from  books  is  what  Spencer  calls  a  "  prejudice  of 
the  Middle  Ages.' 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  all  games  become  work  when 
children  wish  to  succeed  in  them.  The  first  work 
that  little  children  do  is  play.  Play  gives  us  an 
opportunity  of  judging  their  character  and  of 
developing  it  in  the  direction  of  perseverance  and 
active  energy.  The  ideal  is  the  most  frequent 
possible  blending  of  work  and  play,  of  recreation 
and  instruction. 

The  holidays  ought  to  afford  the  opportunity  for 
bodily  exercise  and  for  walking,  especially  in  the 
mountains,  where  the  air  is  pure.  "  Among  them," 
says  Tyndall,  "  I  annually  renew  my  lease  of  Hfe, 
and  restore  the  balance  between  mind  and  body 
which  the  purely  intellectual  discipline   of  London 


MANUAL  WORK   IN   SCHOOLS.  1 53 

IS  calculated  to  destroy."^  With  the  object  of 
amusing  and  occupying  young  people  in  a  reason- 
able manner  during  two  months'  holiday,  the  French 
Alpine  Club  has  organised  caravanes  scolaires  with 
the  following  object : — "  To  bring  together  young 
people  of  the  same  age,  to  carry  them  up  into  the 
mountains  face  to  face  with  the  noblest  sights  of 
nature;  by  walks  together,  knapsack  on  back  and 
iron-shod  stick  in  hand,  to  prepare  them  for  the  trials 
of  the  year's  voluntary  military  service,  and  even  for 
the  fatigues  of  war ;  to  guarantee  to  them  during  the 
expedition  the  careful  superintendence  of  an  expe- 
rienced master,  and  lessons  in  physics,  geology,  and 
botany,  given  in  the  open  air  and  under  the  blue 
sky,  during  the  halts ;  to  amuse  the  mind  without 
ceasing  to  instruct  it ;  to  elevate  the  mind  and  at 
the  same  time  strengthen  the  body."  Many  large 
schools  have  already  adopted  this  course,  and  have 
instituted  travels  during  the  long  and  short  vacations. 
Beside  being  an  admirable  application  of  hygienic 
principles,  there  is  underlying  all  this  a  moral  and 
patriotic  idea.  Unfortunately  these  expeditions, 
being  rather  costly,  are  not  within  the  reach  of 
every  purse.^ 

M.  Cottinet  conceived  the  idea  of  taking  the 
children  for  a  month  into  the  country  or  to  the 
seaside,  without  its  costing  their  parents  anything, 
thanks  to  voluntary  subscriptions.  He  tells  us  that 
experience    showed    that    this    mere    month   in    the 

^   Vide  Preface  to  Mountaineering,     (Tr. ) 

2  The  pupils  at  the  Ecole  Normale  Superieure  are  encouraged  to  spend 
their  vacations  at  various  laboratories  on  the  French  coast — Roscoff, 
Banyuls,  Concarneau,  Wimereux,  Saint-Waast,  etc.  Vide  an  interest- 
ing account  from  the  pen  of  Dr.  Houssay,  Revue  Internationale  de 
VEnseig7teinent,  April  1891.     (Tr.") 


154  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

country  effected  an  heroic  cure.  "  Two  things  have 
been  ascertained  with  equal  certainty :  before  the 
departure  for  the  country  the  weight  and  chest 
measurement  of  these  children  was  lamentably  below 
the  average  for  their  age ;  on  their  return  the  pro- 
portion was  reversed ;  they  had  gained  five,  ten,  and 
even  twenty  times  the  normal  increase  during  that 
period ! " 

The  teacher  in  charge  of  the  boys'  colony  at 
Bussang  has  introduced  an  improvement  into  the 
hygienic  register  of  results  obtained.  This  is  an 
individual  statement  on  the  physical  condition  of 
each  child.  This  statement  is  based  upon  the 
declarations  of  the  parents  and  of  the  head-master 
of  the  child's  school,  and  upon  a  thorough  medical 
examination  before  leaving  home.  It  is  completed 
upon  their  return  by  a  comparison  of  the  results 
obtained.  If  the  doctors  attached  to  our  primary 
schools  would  adopt  and  generalise  this  method,  if 
they  would  introduce  for  each  child  a  health  sheets 
to  be  revised  monthly  or  quarterly,  great  progress 
would  be  made.  We  could  keep  an  account  of 
what  the  children  gain  in  health  and  strength — the 
two  elements  of  wealth  to  the  individual  and  the 
race. 

The  reorganisation  of  physical  education  in  France 
is  all  the  more  important  because  of  the  physical 
degeneration  of  the  race.  Heredity  will,  if  we  do 
not  take  care,  eventually  bring  on  progressive  de- 
generation, and  our  intellect,  far  from  gaining,  will 
lose  by  it.  Being  an  intellectual  people,  we  have 
a  superstitious  belief  in  intellectual  instruction.  We 
must  be  cured  of  it  and  be  convinced  that  a  robust 
and  productive  man  is  much  more  important  to  the 


PHYSICAL   PROGRESS   OF   THE   RACE.  155 

race  than  a  man  who  has  furnished  his  memory  with 
a  mass  of  mostly  useless  knowledge. 


V.   The  Physical  Progress  of  the  Race,  and  the  Growth 
of  Population. 

With  the  question  of  heredity  and  education  are 
closely  connected  the  questions  of  physical  fertility 
and  population,  in  so  far  as  they  are  subject  to  the 
will  of  man,  his  beliefs,  ideas,  and  his  real  or  apparent 
interests.  This  question  is  of  capital  importance  to 
the  French  nation.  I  have  already  treated  it  fully 
elsewhere,  but  I  must  here  again  lay  emphasis  upon 
the  momentous  character  of  the  danger  which 
threatens  us. 

At  the  last  census  taken  in  Germany,  December 
1885,  the  population  of  the  new  Empire  reached  the 
total  of  46,855,704.  In  1870  the  number  on  the  same 
territory  was  only  40,816,249.  If  we  take  into  account 
the  number  of  emigrants  and  the  birth-rate,  the 
effective  increase  reaches  the  total  of  535,444.  So 
that  in  one  year  the  population  of  the  German 
Empire  increases  by  more  than  half  a  million.  Let 
us  suppose  this  movement  to  continue  with  the  pro- 
portional increase  of  the  decennial  period  1871  to 
1880,  and  in  barely  sixty  years  the  present  population 
would  be  doubled.  After  the  wars  of  the  first  Empire, 
in  1 8 16,  the  countries  of  the  Germanic  Confederation, 
which  now  form  part  of  United  Germany,  had  a  com- 
bined population  of  twenty-four  millions.  They  will 
have  a  hundred  and  seventy  millions  at  the  end  of  the 
next  century,  with  a  density  of  525  per  square  mile, 
as  against   130  in    1880,  without  territorial   increase. 


156  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

Compared  with  the  progress  of  the  German  Empire, 
the  population  of  France  is  almost  stationary,  barely 
reaching  the  total  of  37,321,186  from  the  census  of 
1 88 1,  as  against  32,569,223  in  1831.  There  is  only 
an  annual  increase  of  0.2  per  cent,  in  the  interval  of 
the  two  last  quinquennial  returns — that  is  to  say,  six 
or  seven  times  less  than  the  numerical  increase  of  the 
Germans.  This  is  a  momentous  fact,  and  well  worthy 
of  the  attention  not  only  of  statisticians,  but  especially 
of  statesmen  anxious  concerning  the  future  ;  for  when 
a  nation  ceases  to  advance,  it  lags  behind,  and  allows 
political  preponderance  to  pass  into  the  hands  of 
more  vigorous  races. 

Mr.  Myers,  criticising  the  chapters  relating  to  popu- 
lation in  my  Irrdigion  de  VAvenir^  attributes  to 
"  modern  French  pessimism  "  a  depressing  influence 
upon  the  growth  of  population  in  France.  I  do  not 
quite  understand  the  sterilising  influence  thus  attri- 
buted to  pessimism.  We  may  ask  ourselves  if 
pessimism,  once  become  general  in  a  nation,  can  of 
itself  be  the  cause  of  infecundity.  The  Chinese  and 
Japanese  have  been  cradled  from  their  infancy  in  the 
idea  that  all  existence  is  nothing ;  moreover,  they 
have  no  doctrine  based  upon  immortality;  Buddhism 
is  on  this  point  more  negative  than  positive,  but  they 
breed  none  the  less.  This  is  because  they  have  a 
family  cult,  like  the  ancient  Jews,  who  also  had  no 
distinct  belief  in  immortality.^     In  this  problem  what 

^  Is  there  even  such  a  thing  as  "modern  French  pessimism"?  I  do  not 
know  whether  it  would  not  have  been  better  to  have  said  modern  pessi- 
mism in  France.  No  doubt  pessimism  did  exist  at  a  certain  period,  and 
still  exists  in  a  fashion  in  Parisian  salons,  where  a  number  of  used-up 
and  dissipated  rakes  eagerly  assume  this  serious  name.  But  not  a  single 
philosopher,  from  Taine,  Renouvier,  Ravaisson,  to  Fouillee  and  Ribot, 
has  defended  pessimism.     M.  Zola,  a  novelist,  a  powerful  genius,  but 


PHYSICAL   PROGRESS   OF   THE   RACE.  157 

ought  to  particularly  engage  our  interest  is  the  mental 
attitude  of  the  masses,  especially  of  the  peasants,  who 
alone  populate  or  depopulate  a  country. 

Now  the  French  peasant  is  anything  but  a  pessi- 
mist. He,  as  it  has  been  said,  is  remarkable  for 
taking  life  on  the  best  side.  Moreover,  the  majority 
of  the  French  nation  have  kept  a  basis  of  spiritualism, 
and  if  the  peasant  has  often  rejected  religious 
dogmas,  he  regards  with  none  the  less  awe  the  great 
problem  of  death ;  the  most  sceptical  will  tell  you  in 
his  own  simple  language  that  burying  a  dog  is  not 
the  same  thing  as  burying  a  man ;  death  in  his 
opinion  should  be  accompanied  by  words  of  hope, 
and  therein  he  thinks  lies  the  utility  of  the  priest. 
And  this  state  of  things  is  a  growth  of  the  present 
day.  But  it  is  quite  true  to  say  that  these  principles 
— respect  for  death  and  wavering  belief  in  immortality 

with  tendencies  sombre  and  often  obscene,  has  made  it  his  business 
to  summon  up  in  his  works  more  or  less  horrible  images,  but  that  is  an 
individual  case,  and  a  matter  of  artistic  rather  than  philosophic  doctrine. 
No  doubt  M.  Renan  will  be  quoted  to  me,  but  that  admirable  writer,  if 
he  had  his  pessimistic  days,  appears  now  to  be  converted  to  optimism. 
Perhaps  in  his  more  confidential  moods  he  will  tell  us  that  the 
truth  lies  between  the  two,  and  that  we  might  well  sustain  the 
two  theses  successively.  In  poetry  our  greatest  name,  Victor  Hugo, 
is  anything  but  that  of  a  pessimist,  or  even  of  a  sceptic.  He  has 
always  struggled  with  might  and  main  against  sceptical  ideas.  This 
is  perhaps  not  the  case  with  the  great  English  poets,  Byron  and 
Shelley,  with  Heine  in  Germany,  and  Leopardi  in  Italy.  The  poetae 
minores  may  be  quoted  to  me — Madame  Ackermann,  Baudelaire,  and 
Richepin.  But  Madame  Ackermann,  who  has  written  verses,  pessi- 
mistic, well  thought  out  but  a  trifle  declamatory,  and  Baudelaire — 
who  seems  to  have  really  had  a  craze — are  only  read  by  a  limited  circle. 
As  for  M.  Richepin,  how  can  we  take  that  skilful  verse-maker  and 
rhetorician  seriously?  We  read  him  in  the  same  frame  of  mind  as  that 
in  which  we  watch  a  very  clever  juggler.  His  pessimism  is  nothing  but 
**  matter"  for  French  verses,  as  if  it  were  the  subject  for  Latin  verses 
at  the  lyceum  and  Ecole  normale. 


158  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

— taken  in  connection  with  the  real  failing  of  the 
French  peasant  (who  is  a  very  dcHberate  cal- 
culator, and  growing  more  and  more  deliberate), 
are  not  enough  to  carry  him  forward  to  that 
practical  and  perhaps  rather  unexpected  conclusion — 
not  easily  referable  to  its  premises — "increase  and 
multiply."  From  the  moment  that  economical  and 
social  motives  are  placed  in  the  first  line,  the  question 
of  fecundity  becomes  pre-eminently  an  object  of 
economic  and  social  reform,  a  matter  of  both  moral 
and  public  education. 

It  is  necessary  in  public  education  not  to  openly 
discuss  the  question  of  wilful  infecundity,  but  to  show 
the  advantage  to  the  race,  the  country,  and  the  family 
of  a  large  population.  The  numbers  I  have  just 
given  of  the  population  of  Germany  are  in  themselves 
eloquent  enough.  Economic,  moral,  and  social  pre- 
judices have  yet  to  be  dissipated  in  France — and  the 
economists  have  had  no  small  share  in  the  dissemina- 
tion of  those  prejudices.  It  is  not  difficult  in  the 
primary  schools  and  lyceums,  in  the  teaching  of 
geography  and  political  economy,  to  lay  great  weight 
on  the  element  of  power,  intellectual  wealth,  and 
social  selection,  that  is  brought  to  a  State  by  a  large 
population.  By  holding  meetings  of  soldiers,  or 
workmen,  or  peasants,  we  have  the  opportunity  of 
pointing  out  these  advantages ;  there  is  no  need 
whatever  to  enter  into  details  that  may  outrage 
modest  ears.  All  we  have  to  do  is  to  accustom 
every  mind  to  think  upon  the  future  of  the  nation 
and  of  the  race. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE   OBJECT   AND    METHOD   OF   INTELLECTUAL 
EDUCATION. 

I.  The  object  and  method  of  intellectual  education. 

II.  Methods  of  teaching — Cultivation  of  attention — Intuition  and 
action — Memory — Prejudices  with  respect  to  cultivation  of  the  memory. 

III.  Choice  of  subjects— Distinction  between  really  useful  knowledge 
and  mere  accomplishments. 

I.    The  Object  and  Method  of  Intellectual  Education, 

The  education  of  childhood  and  early  youth  is  not 
and  ought  not  to  be  pursued  except  for  its  own  sake. 
If  we  start  from  the  principle  that  every  human 
faculty  exists  in  the  brain  of  a  child,  the  object  of 
education  will  be  to  favour  the  normal,  complete,  and 
harmonious  development  of  each  and  all  of  those 
faculties,  which,  as  some  one  has  said,  will  soon 
enough  have  their  equilibrium  disturbed  by  life 
itself. 

It  is  of  the  utmost  importance  that  at  the  moment 
of  taking  a  decisive  step  in  life  a  young  man  should 
be  well  aware  of  what  he  is  and  all  that  he  is,  in  order 
that  he  may  not  follow  one  path  more  than  another, 
or  abandon  himself  to  the  dominant  faculty,  if  he  has 
one,  without,  so  to  speak,  full  knowledge  of  the  reason 
why.  Besides,  from  the  point  of  view  of  that  very 
faculty,  the  most  favourable  condition  for  its 
dominance    is  that    it   should    feel    itself   sustained. 


l60  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

or  as  it  were  furthered,  by  every  other  faculty.  In  a 
word,  education  prepares  the  soil ;  the  seed  will  be 
sown  at  a  later  period  when  the  time  arrives  for 
professional  education  ;  but  for  the  seed  to  rise,  the 
ground  as  a  whole  must  be  prepared,  for  who  can  tell 
the  exact  spot  where  it  will  germinate  ? 

In  education  the  first  place  must  be  awarded  to  the 
common  interests  of  the  individual  and  the  species, 
to  what  can  develop  simultaneously  the  intensity  and 
expansion  of  life.  We  must  not  consider  the  indi- 
vidual solely  in  himself,  as  a  point  in  space,  in  abstrac- 
tion from  the  moral  and  intellectual  atmosphere  in 
which  he  is  completely  immersed,  and  which  is  per- 
haps, equally  with  the  terrestrial  atmosphere,  the  very 
condition  of  his  being.  If  the  first  necessity  is  to  live, 
surely  the  second  is  to  obtain  the  means  of  so  doing 
— ue.,  of  adapting  himself  to  his  environment.  Now, 
man  being  made  to  live  among  men,  we  cannot  go  too 
far  in  the  process  of  moulding  the  child  for  social  life, 
in  counteracting  his  egoistic  instincts,  when  they  first 
unfold,  by  the  development  of  altruistic  and  social 
instincts,  which  ought  to  play  some  day  so  important 
a  part  in  his  individual  life.  Now,  if  pre-eminent 
importance  is  attached  to  the  interests  common  to  the 
individual  and  the  species,  what  are  those  interests  ? 
The  preservation  of  the  individual  is  certainly  indis- 
pensable to  the  species,  and  education  ought  to  tend 
to  ensure  the  maintenance,  the  development,  and 
energy  of  physical  life,  because  upon  it  depends  the 
hereditary  vigour  of  the  race.  It  is  therefore,  one  may 
say,  the  primary  necessity,  the  basis  of  all  others  ; 
hence  the  importance  of  gymnastics  and  hygiene  so 
fully  appreciated  by  the  Greeks,  and  so  neglected  by 
us.     But  here  a  possible  antinomy  may  be  pointed 


OBJECT   OF    INTELLECTUAL   EDUCATION.        l6l 

out  between  interests  of  the  body  and  those  of  intel- 
lectual work  in  a  certain  select  class.  The  theory  of 
evolution  itself  admits  that  the  progress  of  the  species 
is  accomplished  at  the  expense  of  a  certain  number  of 
individuals.  To  produce  a  Pascal  or  a  Newton  we 
must  make  up  our  minds  to  a  certain  bodily  wear  and 
tear  resulting  from  study.  But  that  is,  on  the  whole, 
the  exception,  and  the  good  health  of  the  race,  its 
vigour  and  physical  energy,  are  a  preliminary  condi- 
tion for  the  production  of  exceptional  genius. 

After  physical  development,  or  even  before  if 
required,  we  should  place  moral  development,  which  is 
the  supreme  end  of  the  individual,  and  the  essential 
condition  of  social  existence.  We  must  fully  recognise 
that  in  our  system  of  education  we  take  as  little  care  of 
moral  as  of  physical  development  ;  our  pupils  become 
moral  or  immoral,  if  left  to  themselves,  just  as  they 
are  left  to  themselves  to  become  healthy  or  unhealthy. 
No  use  is  made  of  systematic  means,  no  method  is 
employed  from  the  early  years  of  the  child  in  moralisa- 
tion ;  we  give  instruction  and  trust  to  the  moral 
virtue  of  instruction.  Now  this  virtue  is  not  always 
as  great  as  we  imagine,  at  least  in  the  case  of  the 
object  of  knowledge  properly  so  called.  Arithmetic, 
physics,  and  chemistry  have  no  power  to  "  form  the 
heart." 

Further,  we  ought  to  place  aesthetic  before 
intellectual  and  scientific  instruction,  because  the 
beautiful  lies  nearest  to  the  good,  and  because 
aesthetics,  art,  literature,  and  what  have  been  so  well 
called  the  humanities,  are  the  least  indirect  influences 
making  for  morality.  Intellectual  and  scientific 
instruction  properly  so  called  must  therefore  take  up 
an  inferior  position  to  the  others. 

II 


l62  EDUCATION    AND   HEREDITY. 

In  intellectual  instruction  we  may  have  three  ends  in 
view :  either  to  elevate  the  mind  and  to  make  it  look 
at  everything  from  a  higher  standpoint,  or  to  apply 
it  to  some  practical  end,  such  as  a  trade,  bread- 
winning,  etc.  ;  or  simply  to  furnish  it,  like  a  draw- 
ing-room, with  splendid  hangings,  Chinese  pottery, 
and  Japanese  lacquer-work.  The  latter  end  is  most 
often  aimed  at  nowadays  ;  instruction  is  becoming  a 
matter  of  dress — coquetry  in  the  young  girl  and  vanity 
in  the  young  man.  This  is  a  grievous  deviation 
from  the  right  path.  The  true  object  of  intellectual 
education  is  to  instil,  with  the  least  possible  expendi- 
ture of  energy,  the  greatest  number  of  generous  and 
fruitful  ideas.  Once  the  brain  of  each  individual  has 
been  moulded  for  good,  heredity  will  fix  a  greater 
cerebral  capacity  in  the  race.  Education  and  heredity, 
here  as  elsewhere,  will  be  complementary. 


1 1.  Methods  of  Teaching, 

Psychologists  have  shown  that  the  physical 
expression  of  the  sentiments,  imitated  by  reflection, 
engenders  the  sentiments  themselves,  and  we 
have  seen  that  these  sentiments  are  propagated 
by  suggestion.  Thus  it  is  easy  for  a  master  who 
takes  pleasure  in  the  company  of  his  pupils  to 
communicate  his  pleasure  to  them.  The  interest 
that  he  manifests  in  what  he  says  or  does,  or  in  the 
work  that  he  makes  them  do,  is  communicated  to  all 
by  sympathy.  Silence  leads  by  suggestion  to  silence. 
The  example  of  order  forms  habits  of  order.  We 
cannot  help  working  when  every  one  is  working  around 


METHODS   OF   TEACHING.  1 63 

US.  The  nerves  are  excited  by  the  attitude  of  those 
at  work.  Eventually  they  reach  that  point  at  which 
inaction  becomes  suffering.  As  Herbart  says,  "  there 
is  no  well-behaved  child  who  will  refuse  to  work  when 
all  around  him  are  full  of  emulation  and  eagerness  in 
their  work." 

It  is  therefore  less  difficult  than  is  generally 
believed  to  produce  in  the  young  child  a  love  of 
work.  Besides,  the  slight  distaste  that  he  sometimes 
shows  for  it  at  first  is  rather  due  to  a  want  of  habit 
and  method  than  to  idleness  properly  so  called.  We 
should,  to  begin  with,  develop  the  faculty  of  obser- 
vation by  object  lessons:  concrete  facts  should  be 
presented  before  abstract  truths ;  we  should  try  to 
make  the  acquirement  of  knowledge  pleasurable. 
The  common  characteristic  of  modern  methods  lies 
in  the  endeavour  to  conform  education  to  the  natural 
progress  of  evolution  in  the  child ;  which,  however, 
does  not  at  all  imply  a  system  of  complete  laissez- 
faire^  the  child  wanting  the  intellectual  nourishment 
prepared  for  it  and  presented  to  it  in  a  certain  order. 
The  general  principles  of  education  which,  according 
to  Spencer,  may  be  regarded  as  established,  are  the 
following: — 1st.  The  mind  proceeds  from  the  simple 
to  the  complex.  2nd.  The  mind  advances  from 
the  indefinite  to  the  definite.  3rd.  The  individual 
development  of  the  child  reproduces  the  phases  of 
the  historic  development  of  mankind.  4th.  The 
process  of  self-development  should  be  encouraged  to 
the  uttermost.  Sth.  Intellectual  activity  is  in  itself 
pleasurable,  and  well-directed  study  ought  to  be 
productive  of  interest  and  not  distaste.  In  a  word, 
the  acquisition  of  knowledge  ought  to  be  the  result  of 
the   spontaneous   activity  of  the   child  ;    the   normal 


164  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

exercise  of  the  faculties  being  in  itself  pleasurable, 
study,  if  well  directed,  should  be  interesting. 

However,  here  again  we  must  avoid  excess.  To 
change  work  into  a  mere  game,  to  instruct  in  play,  is 
a  bad  preparation  for  life.  Is  life  a  game?  Kant 
was  right  when  he  said — "  It  is  a  fatal  thing  to 
accustom  the  child  to  look  at  everything  as  a  game. 
...  It  is  of  the  utmost  importance  to  teach  children 
to  work;  for  man  is  the  only  animal  compelled  to 
work."  Spencer  himself  takes  as  his  higher  criterion 
of  the  good  method,  pleasurable  excitement  in  the 
child  ; — interest  and  admiration  certainly,  but  plea- 
sure, amusement?  .  .  .  Far  from  subordinating 
work  to  pleasure,  the  child  must  find  its  pleasure  in 
work  itself,  in  the  exercise  of  its  faculties  and  in  the 
sense  of  duty  accomplished.  Life  is  nothing  but 
work,  submission  to  rules ;  do  not  represent  it  to 
children  as  a  game  of  bowls  or  ninepins :  this  would 
have  a  demoralising  effect,  and  instead  of  making 
men,  would  send  out  into  society  mere  overgrown 
children.  The  man  who  can  do  nothing  but  play, 
and  judges  everything  by  the  pleasure  it  gives  him,  is 
an  egoist  and  an  idle  fellow. 

Again,  play  itself  demands  a  certain  amount  of 
work.  For  we  must  not  forget  that  the  pleasure  of 
play  rapidly  becomes  interest  in  difficulties  to  be 
overcome,  as  we  may  see  from  the  fact  that  immedi- 
ately a  game  has  ceased  to  be  difficult  it  has  very 
often  ceased  to  amuse.  We  have  therefore  simply  to 
bring  the  child  to  apply  to  a  serious  task  the  whole 
attention,  perseverance,  and  continuity  in  the  thread 
of  his  ideas,  which  he  has  naturally  and  gradually 
brought  to  bear  upon  his  games.  Finally,  to  teach 
him  to  interest  himself  in  everything,  is  to  teach  him 


METHODS   OF   TEACHING.  l6S 

to  persevere — i.e.y  to  be  familiar  with  exertion,  and  to 
exercise  will :  it  is  to  moralise  him  as  much  as  to 
instruct  him. 

The  cultivation  of  the  attention  is  the  secret  of  all 
intellectual  training.  Attention  produces  the  more 
or  less  systematic  grouping  of  representations  and 
ideas,  so  that  not  one  remains  isolated  within  us,  but 
each  rather  attracts  and  awakens  similar  and  logically 
or  aesthetically  analogous  images  and  ideas.  Inat- 
tention, on  the  other  hand,  consists  in  the  abortive 
birth  of  each  representation  which  passes  through  us 
and  dies  away  without  having  given  rise  to  a  per- 
manent grouping.  Attention,  therefore,  is  as  much  a 
question  of  method  as  of  natural  intellectual  power. 
To  have  the  habit  of  attention  is  simply  to  have  the 
habit  of  not  permitting  an  important  state  of  con- 
sciousness to  miscarry  without  having  linked  itself  to 
others,  without  having  created  a  kind  of  psychic 
system.^ 

Attention  is  order  and  earnestness  of  thought.  The 
woof  of  our  ideas  must  not  be  broken ;  we  must  be  like 
the  weaver  who  works  in  the  broken  thread.  There 
are  minds,  it  is  true,  in  which  the  thread  is  constantly 
being  broken,  but  in  almost  every  case  the  threads 
may  be  joined  with  a  little  effort.  It  is  a  question  of 
will,  and  attention  thus  appears  to  be  elementary 
morality;  in  fact  it  is  the  morality  of  the  intellect, 
the  art  of  conduct  in  the  inward  sphere  of  action. 
Attention  is  only  perseverance  applied  to  something. 
Accordingly,  before  the  intellectual  faculties  are  de- 
veloped in  the  child,  it  is  of  importance  to  encourage 
the  habit  of  perseverance,  which  in  the  sequel  will  be 

^  Vide  Paulhan,  Revue  Scientifique^  28th  May  1887. 


l66  EDUCATION    AND   HEREDITY. 

manifested  in  the  sphere  of  ideas.  The  child  must 
have  already  acquired  a  certain  sequence  in  its  actions 
and  in  its  duties  before  it  acquires  that  sequence  later 
on  in  its  thoughts.  "  He  was  only  unhappy  when  he 
was  thinking,"  says  Voltaire  of  Candide;  and  he  adds, 
"  it  is  so  with  most  men."  Would  it,  then,  be  supreme 
happiness  not  to  think?  No!  Supreme  happiness 
consists  in  being  master  of  one's  thoughts,  and  in 
knowing  how  to  direct  them,  which  is  the  most 
difficult  thing  in  the  world.  We  get  the  habit  of 
being  superficial  as  we  get  any  other  habit ;  it  is 
merely  a  lack  of  attention  and  courage;  a  fault  as 
much  moral  as  intellectual ;  a  fault  which  may  be 
corrected  by  the  power  of  the  will. 

Attention  directed  towards  an  end  produces  method. 
It  is  a  law  that  any  work  whatever  tends  to  be 
regular  and  methodic  in  proportion  as  it  exacts  a 
larger  expenditure  of  energy — a  greater  tension  ;  now 
intellectual  work  exacts  from  the  organism  an  expendi- 
ture not  only  the  most  costly,  but  the  slowest  to  be 
repaired  :  it  is  therefore  the  work  that  should  be  per- 
formed in  the  most  regular  and  methodic  fashion. 
As  of  all  our  activities  it  is  the  least  mechanical,  and 
the  furthest  removed  from  reflex  actions,  it  should, 
by  way  of  compensation,  be  accomplished  in  more 
regular  hours;  it  should  have  the  characteristics  of  a 
normal  exercise  of  the  activity,  which  daily  finds  in 
the  internal  budget  the  income  corresponding  to  the 
required  outlay.  All  derangement  in  intellectual 
work  kills  the  individual,  and  has  a  still  more  fatal 
effect  upon  his  descendants.  Hence  the  dangers  of  the 
artist's  life,  which  is  so  often  a  Bohemian  existence. 
The  most  productive  intellects  in  science,- and  even  in 
art,  have  often  been  those  whose  work  was  as  regular 


kETHODS   OF   TEACHING.  167 

as  that  of  a  machine,  with  the  necessary  intervals  for 
sufficient  rest. 

As  it  is  necessary  to  develop  the  attention,  espe- 
cially by  requiring  continuity  of  thought,  so  it  is  of 
equal  importance  not  to  overwork  it.  The  best  type 
of  the  way  in  which  the  very  young  child  ought  to 
learn  many  things  without  fatigue,  is  the  way  in 
which  it  learns  its  mother-tongue,  only  listening  to 
the  continuous  sound  of  the  words  uttered  around  it 
when  it  is  so  disposed;  letting  the  words  enter  its 
head  rather  than  placing  them  there;  letting  them  be 
driven  into  its  brain  like  nails  by  repeated  impact. 
The  attention  is  not  developed  if  we  fatigue  it,  for  in 
that  case  there  is  injury  to  the  general  state  of  health. 
A  child  passes  a  more  or  less  lengthy  period  in 
learning  a  lesson  ;  we  think  it  is  attentive,  and  it 
fancies  itself  that  it  is  ;  but  in  reality  it  is  learning  it 
by  the  help  of  only  a  few  moments  of  real  attention  : 
the  rest  is  lost  time.  The  ideal  of  good  education  is 
to  increase  the  intensity  of  attention,  and  to  diminish 
the  time  that  is  given  neither  to  attention  nor  to 
complete  and  thoroughly  healthy  repose ;  it  is  inten- 
sive cultivation,  the  ground  not  being  allowed  to  lie 
fallow.  When  we  demand  too  long  an  effort  of 
attention  from  the  child,  we  exhaust  it  unprofitably. 
But  by  keeping  it  in  the  society  of  intellectual  people 
whose  thoughts  are  connected,  we  may  accustom 
the  child  not  to  range  from  one  subject  to  another, 
and  we  may  keep  its  mind  within  a  circle  of  given 
ideas,  without  allowing  it  to  fly  off  suddenly  at  a 
tangent.  To  dig  the  earth  at  any  fixed  point  it  is 
unnecessary  to  give  fifty  blows  per  minute  with  the 
pick ;  we  may  take  our  time  over  it ;  the  essential 
thing  is  that  each  blow  shall  be  directed  to  the  right 


i68  EDUCATION    AND   HEREDITY. 

spot.  The  deviation  of  attention  being  always  more 
or  less  proportional  to  the  curiosity  aroused,  we 
can  increase  very  largely  the  duration  of  atten- 
tion by  widening  the  sphere  of  curiosity.  Just 
as  we  make  the  attention  more  permanent,  and 
thus  ensure  its  exercise,  we  strengthen  immensely 
by  that  exercise  the  faculty  of  attention  itself. 
The  duration  of  attention  is,  in  fact,  the  measure 
of  its  power,  and  is  one  of  the  means  of  its 
production. 

The  method  of  teaching  by  object  lessons  has  been 
adopted  in  our  schools ;  but  to  make  the  children  see 
things  is  not  all ;  we  must  make  them  understand, 
reason,  and  act ;  the  eyes  ought  not  to  be  a  con- 
venient substitute  for  the  intellect,  but  a  factor  in  its 
development.  There  is  a  better  method  than  teaching 
by  sight,  and  that  is  teaching  by  action  :  to  make  the 
children  do  for  themselves  what  we  are  at  present  con- 
tented with  showing  them.  This  method  appears 
much  preferable;  action  is  a  concrete  reasoning,  which 
simultaneously  engraves  the  ideas  in  the  mind  and  in 
the  fingers.  In  America,  instead  of  making  the  child 
understand  on  paper  the  working  of  a  steam  engine, 
he  is  given  a  miniature  model  ;  he  has  to  take  it  to 
pieces,  put  it  together  again,  and  thus  make  the 
machine  himself  Tyndall,  the  eminent  English 
physicist,  has  written  a  delightful  volume  on  elec- 
tricity, to  show  how  a  child  of  ordinary  intelligence 
may  construct  for  itself,  at  the  cost  of  a  few  shillings, 
most  of  the  ordinary  apparatus  employed  in  electrical 
experiments.  The  initiative  of  the  child  must  be 
cultivated  by  every  possible  means.  It  must  be  done 
even  in  class  by  oral  and  written  exercises,  by  sum- 
maries, written  or  viva  voce^  etc.      The  maieutic  is  the 


Methods  of  teaching.  169 

best  method  of  education  whenever  it  is  possible.^ 
What  is  essential,  is  to  provoke  the  desire  for  action 
and  activity  itself.  Everywhere  and  always  we  see 
among  us  the  triumph  of  mnemotechnical  methods — 
the  false  knowledge  so  neatly  termed  psittacism  by 
Leibnitz.  What  is  the  end  of  man  ?  To  be  a  man,  in 
its  true  and  full  sense;  to  bring  into  play  all  that  is  in 
human  nature.  What  ways  and  means  have  we  for 
this  purpose  ?  Action.  Thus  wrote  Voltaire  in  1727, 
renewing  the  philosophy  of  energy  and  action,  the 
fundamental  doctrine  of  antiquity,  the  tradition  of 
Greece.  The  same  idea,  pointed  out  by  Locke,  is  to 
be  found  throughout  that  eminently  English  book, 
Robinson  Crusoe.  It  is  reproduced  in  the  Emile. 
Michelet  is  also  an  enthusiast  for  action.  We  must 
even  reconstruct  man,  and  no  longer  mutilate  him  by 
exaggerating  this  or  that  part,  by  giving  undue  pro- 
minence to  this  or  that  faculty,  and  suppressing  others ; 
we  must  not  destroy  his  active  faculties,  we  must 
bring  back  life  and  movement  to  the  class-room. 
The  passivity,  inertia,  and  silence  to  which  children 

^  **  My  father  gently  and  patiently  accustomed  me  to  see  and  think 
for  myself,  instead  of  thrusting  upon  me  his  own  ideas,  which  my  docile 
and  submissive  temperament  would  have  blindly  accepted.  Never 
have  I  seen  a  more  modest  and  less  dogmatic  teacher.  He  asserted, 
so  to  speak,  nothing  ;  and  was  content  to  draw  my  attention  to  things, 
without  telling  me  what  he  knew  about  them.  When  we  went  into  a 
wood,  for  instance,  he  was  giving  me  a  lesson  at  every  step,  and  yet  I 
never  felt  I  was  at  school.  Thus  I  insensibly  acquired  the  habit  of 
studying  strata  wherever  an  outcrop  had  exposed  them.  I  knew  the 
names  of  animals  and  plants,  classed  them  in  a  somewhat  tentative 
way,  and  he  let  me  alone,  checking  me  only  by  a  word  or  a  smile  when 
I  went  astray.  He  had  the  gift  of  looking  at  everything  from  the 
practical  point  of  view  ;  he  carefully  distinguished  the  useful  from  the 
harmful  animals,  and  I  early  learned  to  respect  the  mole,  the  toad, 
the  bat,  the  snake,  the  insectivorous  birds,  and  all  my  misunderstood 
friends." — Edmond  About,  Le  Roman  (Tun  brave  homme. 


i;^0        EDUCATION  AND  HEREDITY. 

are  nowadays  condemned,  are  the  tortures  of  the 
school-room.  "  To  be  continually  receiving  and  never 
to  give!  Life  is  just  the  opposite  of  this.  Life 
eagerly  receives,  but  is  none  the  less  happy  to  expand 
and  give,  and  there  is  no  middle  course."  Make  the 
children  more  active  in  school,  make  them  as  far  as 
possible  their  own  instructors. 

It  is  often  asked  if  in  education  we  should  proceed 
from  the  concrete  to  the  abstract,  from  the  particular 
to  the  general,  from  the  empiric  to  the  rational.  Yes ! 
in  the  case  of  young  children.  But  this  method  must 
not  be  exaggerated  or  extended  beyond  due  limits, 
under  the  pretext  that  it  represents — ist,  the  natural 
evolution  of  the  mind  ;  2nd,  the  historical  evolution 
of  the  sciences  themselves.  In  the  first  place,  children 
generalise  very  early,  and  from  the  first  are  given  to 
abstract  deduction.  They  are  simplifiers,  and  some- 
times thoroughgoing  reasoners.  The  child  has  an 
essentially  logical  mind  ;  for  instance,  when  it  has 
done  a  thing  once,  it  wants  to  begin  again,  and  under 
precisely  the  same  conditions.  Naturally  capricious, 
it  refuses  to  sanction  caprice  in  others.  This  is 
because  it  has  had  no  experience  of  varying  con- 
ditions and  results.  And  adults  are  like  children  ; 
they  are  reasoners  with  a  bias  to  simplicity,  often 
incapable  of  seeing  three  or  four  data  simultaneously 
in  a  political  or  moral  problem. 

Accordingly,  I  think  that  not  merely  a  place,  but 
the  first  place,  must  be  awarded  to  a  rational  and 
synthetic  method,  when  it  seems  peculiarly  adapted 
to  the  work  in  hand  ;  for  instance,  in  grammar  or 
logic.  But  in  most  cases  it  is  possible  to  combine  both 
methods  ;  and  whenever  we  are  teaching  the  sciences 
of  observation,  it  is  important  to  make  the  children 


METHODS   OF   TEACHING.  17I 

observe  for  themselves,  and  to  employ  the  teaching  of 
action. 

Once  the  mind  is  capable  of  receiving  and  acquiring, 
we  have  to  determine  the  best  form  of  intellectual 
food,  and  the  quality  and  quantity  of  knowledge  to 
be  acquired.  There  is  a  vast  difference  between  the 
ingestion  and  digestion  of  food,  between  "  cramming 
the  memory  "  and  assimilation.  The  choice  of  intel- 
lectual food  must  be  regulated  by  the  nature  of  the 
brain.  We  have  to  introduce  the  maximum  of  pre- 
cious elements  into  intellectual  circulation  with  the 
minimum  of  waste. 

Some  of  the  prejudices  of  the  older  school  of 
psychology  are  still  to  be  found  in  education  ;  the 
memory  is  far  too  often  represented  as  a  simple, 
unique,  and  detached  faculty.  The  phrases,  to  exercise^ 
to  develop  the  memory^  are  of  common  occurrence ; 
but,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  we  can  only  exercise  and 
develop  particular  forms  of  memory — memory  for 
words,  figures,  etc.  Memory  is  a  habit,  and  memory 
in  general  is  no  more  developed  by  cramming  the 
child's  brain  with  masses  of  words  and  figures,  than 
habit  in  general  is  developed  by  contracting  the  habit 
of  leaping  with  the  feet  together,  or  of  playing  cup 
and  ball.  When  we  force  a  child  to  remember  trivial 
details,  we  do  not  strengthen,  we  really  weaken  its 
memory,  because  these  useless  details  take  the  place 
in  his  brain  of  more  important  ideas.  We  know  that 
the  amount  of  knowledge  which  can  find  room  in  a 
human  brain  of  average  capacity  is  after  all  limited, 
that  one  group  of  subjects  may  expel  another ;  for 
instance,  the  pursuit  of  words  is  incompatible  with 
the  pursuit  of  ideas — frivolities  are  incompatible  with 
graver  matters.     Not  only  is  it  harmful  to  store  the 


17^  EDUCATION   AND  HEREDITY. 

brain  with  rubbish,  which,  so  to  speak,  empties  it  and 
does  not  fill  it,  but  we  ipso  facto  create  a  facility  of 
adaptation  with  respect  to  those  matters,  and  make 
mind  and  memory  alike  unfitted  for  the  reception  of 
really  useful  and  serious  ideas.  The  memory  being 
nothing  but  a  faculty  of  adaptation,  it  is  deformed 
instead  of  being  exercised,  if  we  adapt  it  to  knowledge 
of  inferior  rank.  Besides,  facility  in  the  memory  is 
one  thing,  tenacity  another.  The  abuse  of  competi- 
tions, examinations,  curricula  fixing  a  total  of  know- 
ledge to  be  acquired  by  a  certain  date,  far  from  tending 
to  develop,  tends  rather  to  destroy  the  tenacity  of 
the  memory.  We  all  know  the  feeling  of  intellectual 
relief  after  an  examination,  when  we  feel  the  brain 
freed  from  all  that  was  so  hastily  thrown  into  it,  when 
we  feel  it  regain  its  equilibrium,  and  forget.  An 
examination,  for  most  pupils,  is  nothing  but  permis- 
sion to  forget.  A  diploma  is  often  only  permission 
to  become  ignorant  again ;  and  this  healthy  ignorance, 
which  returns  by  degrees  after  the  day  of  trial,  is  often 
the  deeper  in  proportion  as  the  boy  has  undergone 
more  mental  strain  in  mustering  all  his  knowledge  by  a 
fixed  date,  because  of  the  nervous  exhaustion  neces- 
sarily consequent  upon  it. 

The  main  duty  of  instruction  is  to  give  to  the  mind 
a  framework  whereon  to  group  the  facts  and  ideas 
given  us  in  the  sequel  by  reading  and  experience. 
Facts  and  ideas  have  a  real  and  useful  influence  over 
the  mind  only  when  the  mind  systematises  and  co- 
ordinates them  with  other  facts  and  ideas  as  they  are 
produced  ;  if  the  mind  does  not  do  this,  they  will 
remain  inert,  and  will  be  as  if  they  did  not  exist. 
One  of  the  principles  of  education  is  the  doctrine  of 
the  powerlessness  of  the  educator  to  give  more  than 


METHODS   OF   TEACHING.  1 73 

a  general  direction  to  thought  and  conduct.  The 
most  complete  system  of  instruction  only  furnishes 
knowledge  necessarily  insufficient,  which  must  be  in 
a  measure  swallowed  up  in  the  multitude  of  experi- 
ences which  compose  a  life.  We  must  therefore 
distinguish  between  the  merely  ornamental  and  the 
necessary  form  of  knowledge.  A  serious  mistake  is 
always  made  in  the  classification  of  these  subjects. 
History,  for  instance,  is  in  great  part  ornamental ; 
hygiene  is  absolutely  necessary.  All  children  of 
intellectual  endowments  below  the  average  must  be 
kept  from  the  study  of  merely  ornamental  subjects. 
The  higher  part  of  education  is  already  overburdened. 
Preliminary  examinations  ought  to  lop  off  the 
branches  which  seem  fated  to  bear  no  fruit ;  this 
would  be  an  economy  of  human  sap. 

Among  the  ornamental  subjects  I  by  no  means 
include  the  lofty  truths  and  speculative  principles  of 
science,  the  beauties  of  literature,  and  the  arts  ;  this 
so-called  luxury  is  in  my  opinion  necessary,  because 
it  forms  the  only  means  of  elevating  the  mind, 
and  of  exerting  a  moral  influence  over  it  by  the 
disinterested  love  of  the  good  and  beautiful.  It  is 
the  falsely  called  useful  and  necessary  subjects — 
the  application  of  science,  and  the  dry  details  of 
history,  for  instance — that  are  superfluous.  We  must 
therefore  distinguish  between  knowledge  reputed  use- 
less and  knowledge  of  which  no  use  can  be  made.  The 
distinction  is  of  moment,  because  instruction  ought 
certainly  to  be  raised  far  above  the  merely  utilitarian 
and  humdrum  ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  it  ought  to 
avoid  with  equal  care  cramming  the  mind  with  know- 
ledge out  of  proportion  to  the  faculty  possessed  of 
bringing  it  into  play. 


174  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

The  educator  should,  in  the  first  place,  lay  down 
this  general  rule — that  all  knowledge  would  be  good 
for  a  mind  with  unlimited  power  of  assimilation  ;  in 
the  second  place,  that  all  knowledge,  every  time  it  is 
not  assimilated,  is  an  added  burden  to  the  mind,  and 
represents  useless  expenditure  of  energy;  and  thirdly, 
that  to  determine  the  number  of  subjects  we  wish  to 
pour  into  a  mind,  we  must  consider  not  merely  their 
nature,  but  the  relation  existing  between  them,  and 
the  capacity  of  the  mind  into  which  we  wish  to 
introduce  them. 

The  practical  conclusion  to  be  drawn  from  these 
general  theses  is,  that  if  every  man  ought  to  be  pro- 
vided with  a  certain  average  measure  of  knowledge 
on  arriving  at  ripened  years,  this  total  of  knowledge 
ought  to  be,  not  utilitarian  in  the  lower  sense  of  the 
word,  but  available  for  the  mind — i.e.^  capable  of  being 
assimilated  ;  that  we  must  not  wish  to  widen  beyond 
due  bounds  the  source  of  the  knowledge  given  to  all, 
because  the  fruitless  mental  work  done  in  this  way 
would  be  so  much  pure  loss  to  the  bodily  powers ; 
and  that  the  best  general  education  is  that  which 
leaves  to  the  individual  the  widest  latitude  to  complete 
what  he  has  learned,  according  as  he  is  capable  of 
turning  it  to  good  purpose. 

One  essential  thing  we  must  teach  the  child  is  to 
read  methodically,  and  to  assimilate  what  it  reads. 
We  must  therefore  distinguish — ist,  the  passages 
essential  from  the  moral  and  aesthetic  point  of  view; 
2nd,  the  facts  or  ideas  essential  from  the  scientific 
point  of  view.  Intellectual  education,  faintly  sketched 
in  during  early  years,  is  mainly  continued  by  reading 
— sometimes  by  the  mere  reading  of  the  newspapers 
and  of  novels.     Moreover,  a  mass  of  useful  knowledge 


METHODS   OF   TEACHING.  175 

might  be  drawn  from  even  the  papers,  with  a  little 
discrimination. 

Perhaps  the  most  imperative  duty  is  to  inculcate 
what  is  less  a  fact  or  idea  than  a  sentiment — viz.,  the 
love  of  learning  ;  and  to  this  sentiment  should  be 
added  the  love  of  deep  study,  of  probing  a  thing  to 
its  depths — in  order  that  the  mind  may  not  skim  the 
surface  of  things,  and  grasp  nothing.  This  desire 
for  thorough  work  is  one  and  the  same  thing  with 
perfect  sincerity,  the  desire  of  finding  the  truth,  for  a 
little  experience  forces  us  to  recognise  that  the  truth 
is  never  near  the  surface,  and  that  we  must  always 
dig  and  labour  before  reaching  it. 

It  should  be  noticed  that  the  subjects  most  difficult 
for  the  child  to  acquire  are  most  often  those  between 
which  it  is  impossible  to  establish  a  logical  connec- 
tion, and  which  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  reason- 
ing powers — unimportant  dates,  geographical  names 
of  no  use  even  if  known,  and  trivial  historical  facts. 
Such  knowledge  fatigues  the  brain  when  it  is  acquired, 
and  instead  of  forming  it  by  the  introduction  of 
habits  of  reasoning,  tends  rather  to  deform  it;  it 
is  intellectual  energy  uselessly  dissipated,  merely 
futile  work.  Erudition  is  therefore  one  of  the 
enemies  of  real  knowledge.  And  by  erudition  I 
mean,  not  the  knowledge  of  Greek  or  Sanscrit,  but 
of  an  ever-accumulating  host  of  details  in  which 
the  mind  is  exhausted  and  lost.  To  know  in  their 
chronological  order  the  names  of  the  Merovingians, 
with  the  dates  of  their  births  and  deaths,  is  erudi- 
tion ;  to  remember  in  their  order  the  great  streams 
under  the  name  of  La  Roya  which,  according  to 
our  text-books,  separate  France  from  Italy  (an  in- 
accurate statement),  is  erudition. 


176  EDUCATION    AND   HEREDITY. 

The  best  education  is  that  which  is  not  merely- 
instructive  but  suggestive,  and  consequently  directive; 
which  introduces  into  the  brain  not  only  knowledge 
susceptible  of  "double  use,"  as  Socrates  says,  but 
habits  of  acting  linked  with  habits  of  high  thinking. 
In  other  words,  we  must  not  only  give  a  diffuse 
instruction  creating  opposed  tendencies  which  divide 
the  mind,  but  a  co-ordinated  instruction,  concentrated 
about  a  point  of  reference,  and  issuing  in  practical 
suggestions. 

Descartes  laid  down  the  following  rules  for  his  own 
guidance,  and  asserted  that  he  always  followed  them 
in  his  studies: — 

1st.  Never  to  allot  more  than  a  few  hours  per  day 
to  thought  which  occupies  the  imagination  (concrete 
sciences  and  arts);  2nd,  to  give  only  a  few  hours  per 
year  to  work  requiring  the  understanding  alone 
(mathematics  and  physics);  3rd,  to  give  all  the  rest  . 
of  his  time  to  relaxation  for  the  senses,  rest  for  the 
mind,  and  exercise  for  the  body. 

Descartes  includes  all  "  serious  conversation " 
among  exercises  of  the  imagination,  and  also  every- 
thing absorbing  the  attention;  this  accounts  for  his 
withdrawing  to  the  country.  Leibnitz,  reproducing  the 
rules  of  Descartes,  said:  "So  far  from  our  mental 
powers  being  sharpened  by  excess  of  study,  on  the 
contrary,  they  are  blunted." 

Will  a  few  hours  devoted  to  study  every  day  be 
enough  for  what  we  ought  to  know  ?  They  will, 
answers  a  contemporary  philosopher,^  if,  on  the  one 
hand,  the  well-controlled  mind  has  reserved  all  its 
resources  for  the  time  devoted  to  study,  and  if,  on 
the  other  hand,  we  limit  instruction  to  subjects  it  is 
^  M.  Ravaisson, 


METHODS   OF   TEACHING.  177 

really  important  we  should  know.  "The  great  truths 
in  science,  the  great  models  in  Hterature  and  arts,  may 
be  reduced,  for  the  purposes  of  education,  to  a  few 
which  will  be  all  the  more  striking  in  their  effect." 


12 


CHAPTER    V. 

THE  SCHOOL. 

I.  The  Inadequacy  and  Dangers  of  purely  Intellectual  Education. — 
Results  of  statistics — Necessity  of  moral  instruction. 

n.  Possibility  of  Teaching  Ethics  Methodically. — The  teaching  of 
ethics  in  connection  with  creeds  and  **  natural  religion  " — The  necessity 
of  referring  to  the  State  the  control  of  civic  and  moral  instruction. 

ni.  Moral  Discipline  in  the  Primary  School. — In  Tolstoi's  anarchic 
schools — Spencer's  method  of  natural  reactions — Its  inadequacy. 

IV.  Necessity  for  the  Teaching  of  Civic  Dtities  in  all  stages  of 
Instruction. 

V.  Instruction  in  ALsthetics. 

VI.  Intellectual  Education. 

I.  The  Inadequacy  and  Dangers  of  purely  Intellectual 
Education, 

Primary  instruction  is  intended  for  the  masses 
constituting  the  very  foundation  of  the  nation  (its 
hereditary  foundation),  with  its  good  and  bad  quali- 
ties. This  instruction  has  therefore  to  act  favourably 
upon  the  deeply-lying  strata  of  the  nation.  Now,  as 
Montesquieu  says,  it  is  here  especially  that  we  want 
heads  "  well  formed,"  not  "  well  filled  "  ;  we  must  also 
have,  and  this  is  of  grave  importance,  hearts  in  the 
right  place. 

It  was  ascertained  from  judicial  statistics  at  the 
beginning  of  the  century  that  out  of  a  hundred 
prisoners  only  thirty-nine  per  cent,  had  ever  received 
any  instruction.  In  the  face  of  such  a  proportion  of 
illiterates,  it  was   supposed   that  ignorance  was  the 


INADEQUACY  OF   INTELLECTUAL   EDUCATION.    1 79 

main  cause  of  crime,  and  an  effort  was  made  to 
extend  primary  instruction.  At  the  present  moment 
instruction  is  obligatory,  and  the  result  is  simply 
reversed  ;  out  of  a  hundred  prisoners  thirty  per  cent, 
are  illiterate.  We  have  therefore  been  compelled  to 
recognise  that  the  greater  or  less  proportion  of 
ignorant  people  among  criminals  is  due  to  the 
greater  or  less  ignorance  of  the  masses,  and  not  to 
the  demoralising  effect  of  ignorance  alone.  Some 
authors,  M.  Tarde  among  the  number,  think  that  higher 
instruction  alone  is  powerful  enough  to  raise  the  mind 
to  that  point  at  which  the  idea  of  crime  can  no  longer 
be  produced.  It  has  been  retorted  that  if,  in  the 
records  of  crime,  we  find  very  few  really  well-educated 
people,  it  is  because  in  these  days  to  obtain  real  instruc- 
tion we  must  already  have  some  resources  of  our  own  ; 
now,  with  easy  circumstances,  many  temptations  dis- 
appear ;  further,  higher  instruction  constitutes  in  itself 
resources — a  livelihood.  If  the  same  scientific  instruc- 
tion were  given  to  all,  statistics  would  probably  show 
a  large  number  of  clever,  well-educated,  and  therefore 
more  dangerous  criminals.  We  may  also  add  that 
fifty  years  ago  only  two  per  cent,  of  criminals  had 
received  higher  instruction ;  the  proportion  has  now 
risen  to  four  per  cent,  and  no  doubt  will  increase. 
As  Socrates  pointed  out,  the  way  to  prevent  instruc- 
tion from  becoming  a  weapon  in  the  hands  of  crime, 
would  be  to  allot  a  far  larger  share  in  education  to 
moral  and  aesthetic  than  to  intellectual  and  scientific 
instruction  ;  not  to  conceive  the  latter  without  the 
former,  not  to  think  that  the  knowledge  of  facts  and 
truths  of  a  positive  order  can  supply  the  place  of 
sentiment  in  a  good  education.^ 

^  Ellis,  The  Crifninaly  pp.  299,  300.     (Tr.) 


l8o  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

The  abuse  of  too  purely  intellectual  an  instruction 
is  that,  far  from  always  exercising  a  moralising 
influence,  it  often  only  results  in  the  increase  of  the 
unclassed.  If  the  child,  when  he  reaches  manhood, 
has  not  attained  the  object  of  his  ambition,  he  shifts 
the  blame  on  to  society,  and  accuses  its  bad  organisa- 
tion. From  that  time  forward  he  will  look  at 
everything  from  the  worst  point  of  view,  and  will 
hate  every  one.  If  he  is  feeble  and  exhausted,  he  will 
enter  what  has  been  called  "  The  regiment  of  the 
resigned " ;  ^  of  those  who,  too  weak  to  take  an 
initiative  in  revolt,  have  bowed  the  head,  but 
who  always  are  ready  to  help  those  who  have 
revolted,  when  the  latter  have  begun  to  rebel. 
If  the  latter  do  evil,  the  former  certainly  will 
not  prevent  them ;  both  have  an  interest  in 
revolutions,  and  those  who  do  not  dare  to  bell  the 
cat,  will  certainly  not  be  the  men  to  untie  the  bell.^ 
At  the  beginning  of  his  short  reign,  the  Emperor 
Frederick  III.  wrote  to  Prince  Bismarck — "I  con- 
sider that  the  question  of  the  attention  to  be  given 
to  the  young  is  intimately  connected  with  all  social 

1  Vide  M.  de  Coubertin. 

2  A  plan  for  the  transformation  of  the  real  schools  has  been  laid 
before  the  Council  of  the  Russian  Empire.  These  schools  were  based 
upon  those  of  Germany  for  modern  instruction.  They  are  still  found 
to  have  either  too  much  or  too  little  of  the  classical  element  in  them; 
they  are  condemned  for  forming  half-trained  men,  whose  training  has 
been  both  too  literary  and  too  unpractical  to  enable  them  to  face 
industrial  or  commercial  life  with  much  chance  of  success.  Hence  it 
is  felt  that  these  schools  should  be  turned  into  purely  technical  schools. 
The  training  will  be  such  as  to  turn  out  good  foremen  and  heads  of 
workshops,  who  will  have  received  such  a  general  culture  and  technical 
instruction  as  to  enable  them  to  at  once  obtain  a  situation  in  a  manu- 
facturing or  commercial  business,  and  who  will  not  run  the  risk  of 
being  driven  into  the  ranks  of  the  unclassed— the  open  sore  of  modern 
communities, 


TEACHING   ETHICS   METHODICALLY.  l8l 

questions.  A  higher  education  ought  to  be  made 
accessible  to  more  and  more  extended  strata ;  but 
half-instruction  will  have  to  be  avoided,  lest  it  create 
grave  dangers,  and  give  rise  to  claims  on  life  which 
the  economic  forces  of  the  nation  will  be  unable  to 
satisfy.  We  must  equally  avoid  trying  to  merely  and 
exclusively  increase  the  amount  of  instruction,  lest 
we  thereby  neglect  our  educative  mission."  And  in 
fact,  moral  and  civic  training,  having  the  most  educa- 
tive influence,  must  be  awarded  the  first  rank. 


II.  Possibility  of  Teaching  Ethics  Methodically, 

If  instruction  ought  to  be  pre-eminently  moral,  is  it 
possible  to  teach  ethics  methodically  ?  Ethics,  in  my 
opinion,  is  partly  positive  and  partly  conjectural. 
There  is  on  its  positive  side  a  fundamental  theorem 
which  ought,  I  think,  to  be  also  the  foundation  of 
moral  instruction.  This  theorem,  of  which  I  have  else- 
where shown  the  importance,  is  that  of  the  correlation 
between  the  intensity  of  life  and  its  expansion  towards 
others.  It  is  what  I  have  called  moral  fecundity.  In 
virtue  of  its  very  intensity,  we  have  seen  that  life 
tends  to  overflow,  expand,  and  expend  itself,  and  by 
its  expenditure  to  increase.  For,  once  again,  it  is  a 
law  of  life,  only  to  maintain  itself  by  self-sacrifice, 
only  to  be  enriched  by  lavishing  its  wealth.  This 
law  is  true  even  in  the  case  of  physical  life,  which  is 
the  most  egoistic,  the  most  limited,  and  apparently 
the  most  self-centred.  All  the  physical  functions 
must  end  in  this  common  term — expenditure,  move- 
ment outwards,  expansion.  The  nourishment  we 
have    accumulated    tends    to    awaken    the    need    of 


1 82  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

propagating  our  being  in  another  being ;  respiration 
and  circulation  require  movement  and  exercise — that 
is  to  say,  external  expenditure ;  all  robust  and 
intense  life  needs  action.  When  we  come  to  psy- 
chical life,  the  need  of  expansion  is  still  more  keenly 
felt,  and  in  this  domain  true  expansion  is  that  which 
takes  place  tozvards  others,  or,  still  better, /^r  others. 
The  harmony  of  forces  is,  in  fact,  the  only  or  the  best 
means  of  preserving  their  intensity.  Every  conflict 
is  an  annihilation  of  forces ;  to  exercise  one's  activity 
against  others  is  eventually  to  exhaust  it,  and  to 
impoverish  one's  own  being ;  it  is  robbing  one's 
happiness  to  squander  it  on  ambition.  The  highest 
activity  is  that  which  is  exercised  not  only  in  agree- 
ment with  others,  but  also  out  of  regard  for  others. 
From  all  theories  on  the  principles  of  ethics,  which 
alone  are  really  open  to  serious  controversy,  we  can 
even  now  extract  a  certain  basis  of  common  ideas,  and 
make  of  that  basis  a  subject  of  teaching  or  popular 
instruction.  All  moral  theories,  even  those  most 
sceptical  or  egoistic  in  their  origin,  have  eventually 
issued  in  ascertaining  this  fact,  that  the  individual 
cannot  live  only  of  himself  and  for  himself,  that 
egoism  is  a  contraction  of  the  sphere  of  our  activity, 
and  that  it  eventually  impoverishes  and  injures  that 
activity.  The  sentiment  which  is  at  the  bottom 
of  all  human  morality  is  always  that  of  generosity. 
Men  who  are  generous  and  philanthropic  make 
incarnate  in  themselves  the  systems  of  Epicurus 
and  of  Bentham.^  This  I  have  shown  elsewhere.  It 
is  this  spirit  of  generosity  inherent  in  all  morality 
that  a  moralist  always  can  and  ought  to  try  to  set 
free  and  compel  to  penetrate  the  mind  of  his  audience. 

1  Vide  my  Morale  (V Epicure  and  my  Morale  Anglaise  Contemporaine, 


TEACHING   ETHICS   METHODICALLY.  1 83 

It  is  objected  that  if  the  propagation  and  teaching 
of  moral  ideas  become  independent  of  creeds  they 
will  lack  a  final  element  of  sovereign  power  over  all 
pious  minds,  namely,  the  idea  of  punishment  after 
death,  or  at  any  rate  the  certainty  of  that  punishment. 
My  answer  is  that  precisely  what  is  purest  in  the  moral 
sentiment  is  doing  good  for  its  own  sake.  And  if  the 
reply  is  made  that  it  is  a  chimerical  ideal,  being  so 
elevated,  I  retort  that  the  power  of  the  ideal  to  realise 
itself  will  become  greater  in  proportion  as  the  ideal 
is  placed  higher  in  the  society  of  the  future.^  It  is 
supposed  that  the  most  elevated  ideas  are  the  least 
easy  to  propagate  among  the  masses  :  this  is  an  error 
to  which  the  future  will  more  and  more  unmistak- 
ably give  the  lie.^  The  Chinese,  who  are  very  acute 
observers,  have  the  following  proverb : — "  He  who 
finds  pleasure  in  vice  and  pain  in  virtue,  is  still  a 
novice  in  both."  The  object  of  moral  education  is  to 
make  children  find  their  pleasure  in  virtue  and  their 
pain  in  vice.  We  must  not  always  be  teaching  the 
utility  of  the  good,  and  forget  its  beauty^  which  causes 
what  is  good  to  spontaneously  afford  immediate  enjoy- 
ment. The  utilitarian  school,  wishing  to  base  moral 
education  on  the  imitation  of  examples,  on  the  con- 
sideration of  expediency,  on  the  benefits  of  altruism, 
decreases  the  really  moral  spirit  in  children  by 
robbing  them  of  the  power  of  doing  good  for  its 
own  sake,  independently  of  what  others  have  done, 
do,  or  will  do.  Kant  seemed  to  foresee  the  applica- 
tion of  English  psychology  to  English  pedagogy: 
trying  to  discover  why  ethical  treatises,  even  those 
showing    by   most   examples   the   happy    effects    of 

^  Vide  V Esquisse  cCune  Morale ,  pp.  236,  237. 
2  Vide  my  V Irriligion  de  VAvenir,  p.  352. 


184  EDUCATION    AND   HEREDITY. 

good,  have  nevertheless  so  little  influence;  he  asked 
if  this  inefficiency  is  not  due  to  the  admixture  of 
the  ideal  of  the  good  with  foreign  elements.  "  The 
moralists,"  he  says,  "have  never  undertaken  to  reduce 
their  concepts  to  the  simplest  expression;  searching 
on  every  side,  with  the  best  intentions  in  the  world, 
for  emotional  motives  to  moral  good,  they,  by  so 
doing,  spoil  the  remedy  they  wish  to  be  efficacious. 
In  fact,  the  commonest  observation  shows  that  if 
we  have  presented  to  us  an  act  of  probity,  free  from 
all  interested  views  in  this  world  or  another — an  act 
even  involving  struggle  against  the  hardships  of 
poverty  or  the  seductions  of  wealth ;  and  if,  on  the 
other  hand,  we  are  shown  a  precisely  similar  act, 
in  which  foreign  motives,  however  slightly,  have 
concurred,  the  former  leaves  the  latter  very  far 
behind  it,  and  throws  it  into  the  shade ;  it  elevates 
the  mind,  and  inspires  in  it  the  desire  to  go 
and  do  likewise.  Children  experience  this  senti- 
ment as  soon  as  they  can  reason,  and  duty  should 
never  be  inculcated  in  any  other  way.  The  power 
of  morality  over  the  human  heart  is  in  proportion  to 
the  purity  of  outline  with  which  it  is  presented." 
But  is  not  this  a  matter  of  mere  logic?  A  happy 
issue  to  a  series  of  events  implies  the  possibility  of 
the  contrary,  which,  moreover,  is  much  more  prob- 
able ;  the  mere  good  sense  of  the  child  will  teach 
him  this.  The  attempted  proof  that  the  best  way  of 
reaching  utilitarian  happiness  is  to  abandon  oneself  to 
altruistic  sentiments  is  not  only  always  subject  to 
dispute,  but  it  is  an  appeal  to  the  egoistic  sentiments 
themselves  to  form  a  judgment  on  a  cause  not  within 
their  scope,  disinterestedness,  to  wit ;  it  is  to  forget 
that  the  sentiments  can  only  be  judged  by  their  peers. 


Teaching  ethics  methodically.         185 

Stimulate  generosity  alone,  when  you  want  a  burst 
of  generosity,  and  you  will  be  understood  ;  the 
most  elevated  sentiments,  at  least  those  momentarily 
the  strongest,  will  stifle  all  others,  and  the  eager 
trembling  of  sublime  emotion  will  be  produced. 

I  have  elsewhere  attempted  to  show  that  different 
forms  of  religion  are  not  eternal,  that  they  have  a 
mythical,  dogmatic,  ceremonial  side,  which  is  des- 
tined to  disappear.  In  the  ideal  state  of  religious 
anomia  towards  which  we  seem  to  be  moving,  all 
tendencies  of  temperament  or  of  race  will  still  find 
satisfaction,  and  in  this  religion  of  the  future  the 
"  worship  of  the  ideal "  must  find  its  place.  On  our 
part,  we  by  no  means  wish  to  destroy ;  we  even 
believe  that,  absolutely  speaking,  destruction  cannot 
ensue.  In  human  thought  and  in  nature  alike,  all 
destruction  is  but  transformation.  The  ideal  irre- 
ligion,  though  to  us  it  is  a  negation  of  the  dogmas  and 
superstitions  of  the  day,  is  in  no  way  exclusive  of 
renewed  religious  sentiment,  —  identical  with  that 
sentiment  which  always  corresponds  in  us  to  all 
free  speculation  on  the  universe,  identical  with  the 
philosophical  sentiment  itself  Dogma,  free-thought, 
religion,  irreligion, — these  terms  are  only  approxima- 
tions, and  there  are  in  things  none  of  those  breaches 
of  continuity,  hiatus,  and  artificial  antitheses,  which 
we  introduce  into  words.  I  think  therefore  that 
religions  of  the  day  are  destined  to  disappear  by  a 
dissolution  very  slow,  but  none  the  less  sure ;  but 
I  also  think  that  man,  whatever  be  his  race  or  class, 
will  always  philosophise  on  the  world  and  on  the  great 
cosmical  society.  He  will  philosophise,  sometimes 
naively,  sometimes  deeply,  as  his  education  increases 
and    according   to   the   individual   tendencies    of  his 


1 86  £DUCATiON   AND   HEREDITY. 

mind,  tendencies  which  will  go  on  freeing  themselves 
and  ever  be  made  stronger  by  the  very  progress  of 
education. 

If  this  be  so,  we  cannot  admit  that  war  should 
be  proclaimed  against  sectarian  instruction,  for  it 
has  its  moral  utility  in  the  present  state  of  the 
human  mind.  It  constitutes  one  of  the  elements 
which  prevent  the  disaggregation  of  the  moral  edifice, 
and  anything  of  the  nature  of  a  unifying  force  must 
not  be  contemned,  when  we  take  into  account  the 
individualistic  and  even  anarchic  tendencies  of  our 
democrats. 

The  public  schools  in  France  cannot  be  sectarian, 
but  a  philosophic  doctrine  like  the  broad  theism 
taught  in  our  schools  is  not  a  confession  of  faith, 
nor  a  dogma ;  it  is  an  exposition  of  philosophical 
opinions  conformable  to  the  traditions  of  the  majority. 
On  the  other  hand,  atheism  is  not  a  dogma  or  con- 
fession, which  may  have  the  right  to  exclude  all 
contrary  opinions  as  an  insult  to,  or  infringement 
of,  liberty  of  conscience.  Hence  no  confession  of 
faith  is  assailed  by  any  lay,  moral,  or  philosophical 
teaching  if  appropriate  to  the  mental  state  of  the 
children.  Besides,  anti-religious  fanaticism  offers 
grave  dangers,  just  as  religious  fanaticism  does;  there- 
fore the  State,  to  preserve  unharmed  the  children  of 
both,  ought  to  keep  to  the  high  road  of  primary  instruc- 
tion. The  State  cannot  be,  and  ought  not  to  be, 
uninterested  in  these  questions.  As  Michelet  truly 
said,  the  first  duty  of  politics  is  education ;  the  second, 
education  ;  the  third,  education.  State  intervention 
alone  can  prevent  the  youth  of  the  country  from  being 
brought  up  in  a  strict  "individualism";  it  alone  can 
maintain   the   best   national   traditions,   and    oppose 


TEACHING   ETHICS   METHODICALLY.  1 87 

every  manifestly  patriotic  or  immoral  education.  In  a 
word,  the  duty  of  the  State  is  to  transmit  to  each  new 
generation  the  heritage  handed  on  by  the  past,  the 
literary,  scientific,  and  artistic  treasures  amassed  by 
our  ancestors  at  the  cost  of  so  much  effort.  "  Con- 
tinuity of  national  tradition  is  the  true  condition  of 
progress,  the  inexhaustible  fount  of  an  enlightened 
and  fertile  patriotism.  Now  it  is  to  be  feared  that  if 
national  education  be  left  to  private  initiative,  pre- 
judices of  a  low  utilitarianism,  the  want  of  an  horizon 
sufficiently  wide,  with  many  other  causes,  will  help  to 
break  the  bond  between  us  and  the  glorious  past. 
The  only  way  to  avoid  the  gropings,  faults,  and 
blunders  of  our  predecessors  is  to  study  them.  No 
progress  can  be  made  if  the  lessons  of  the  past  are 
neglected."^  The  State  ought,  moreover,  to  keep  the 
general  level  of  education  up  to  a  certain  standard, 
to  watch  over  the  maintenance  of  good  and  strong 
national  traditions,  and  to  take  the  necessary  steps  to 
ensure  that  whatever  there  is  good  and  beautiful  in 
our  modern  civilisation  may  be  transmitted  to  future 
generations. 

There  is  a  tendency  in  the  present  day  to  substitute 
the  commune  for  the  State,  and  to  award  to  the 
former  at  its  own  discretion  the  power  of  entire 
direction  of  all  schools  within  its  jurisdiction.  But  to 
this  the  answer  has  been  justly  made,  that  most  of 
the  French  communes,  even  if  thoroughly  reformed, 
would  be  incapable  of  supplying  the  basis  of  genuine 
instruction.  In  most  cases  they  would  hand  over 
the  education  of  youth,  either  to  intelligent  but  in- 
experienced innovators,  or  to  charlatans ;  in  some 
cases  to  religious  bodies,  in  others  to  anti-religious 

^  V Education  selon  Herbart  (Roerich). 


1 88  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

sects,  according  to  the  fashion  of  the  day  or  the 
impulse  of  the  moment.  Those  communes  which 
would  confine  themselves  simply  to  school  routine 
would  be  least  exposed  to  delusions.  The  youth  of 
a  country  is  its  pride  and  its  wealth  :  we  cannot  hand 
it  over  to  those  who  wish  to  take  it  as  an  experiment 
in  anhna  vili,  or  as  a  political  weapon.  The  State 
cannot  tolerate  the  future  of  a  whole  generation  being 
a  subject  for  debate  to  any  political  party  whatever ; 
its  duty  is  to  maintain  the  lofty  impartiality  and 
disinterestedness  of  education.^ 


III.  Moral  Discipline  in  the  Primary  School 

The  moral  discipline  of  schools  is  an  important 
question.  Rousseau  thought  it  was  best  to  let 
children  incur  the  natural  consequences  of  their 
actions.  Spencer  has  reproduced  the  same  theory 
under  the  name  of  natural  reactions^  and  Tolstoi  has 
carried  out  the  experiment  in  his  anarchic  school  at 
Yasnaia.  Spencer's  principle  has  been  often  criticised, 
and  not  unjustly.  A  thoughtless  boy  teases  his 
neighbour  and  disturbs  the  whole  class;  natural  re- 
action in  this  environment  will  be  an  argument  ad 
hominein.  A  row  will  inevitably  follow,  and  order 
will  be  compromised  for  the  rest  of  the  lesson.  If 
the  master  intervenes  to  bring  the  culprit  to  reason, 
authority  is  brought  into  play  and  the  system  of 
natural  reactions  proves  a  failure.  Suppose  a  boy  is 
simply  inattentive  during  the  lesson.  The  master 
cannot  reprove  him  without  infringing  the  doctrine  of 
natural   reactions.      But  if  a  boy  is  inattentive  one 

^  V Education  selon  Herbart  (Roerich). 


MORAL   DISCIPLINE   IN    SCHOOL.  1 89 

day,  and  is  made  to  suffer  no  inconvenience,  he 
will  be  inattentive  the  next  and  the  following  days. 
A  bad  habit  is  quickly  contracted,  and  the  natural 
reaction  is  only  produced  when  the  evil  is  irrepar- 
able. Inattention  and  habitual  carelessness  in  a  boy 
are  naturally  followed  by  ignorance,  intellectual  in- 
feriority to  his  hard-working  schoolfellows,  and  finally 
by  the  difficulties  of  life  resulting  from  that  in- 
feriority. The  injury  is  only  felt  a  long  time  after 
the  faults  of  school-life,  but  then  it  is  irreparable.^ 
Nature  especially  excites  children  to  spontaneous 
physical  development.  Hence  the  craving  for  inces- 
sant motion,  the  aversion  to  everything  that  keeps 
them  still.  Almost  all  the  faults  of  children  are  due 
to  their  turbulence — i,e.^  to  exaggeration  in  the  satis- 
fying of  a  want.  Fatigue  is  only  the  reaction  from 
overstrained  activity.  The  child  who  neglects  his 
work  and  plays  till  he  is  tired  will  not  feel  the  punish- 
ment of  his  moral  fault  by  physical  fatigue.  Rest  will 
restore  his  readiness  for  movement,  and  his  longing  to 
recommence  the  exercise  that  fatigued  him  ;  but  he 
will  never  be  led  by  any  purely  physical  impulse  to 
the  work  he  has  neglected.  A  child's  mind  can 
establish  no  relation  between  the  work  he  has  for- 
gotten and  the  fatigue  resulting  from  too  prolonged 
or  too  violent  exercise  in  the  time  he  ought  to 
have  devoted  to  that  work.  Here  natural  reaction 
misses  its  aim  ;  it  neither  diverts  from  play,  nor  does 
it  induce  the  child  to  work.^  The  necessity  of  a  rule 
is  clear  even  in  the  most  instinctive  acts  of  the  child. 
Repletion  inspires  in  him  a  repugnance  to  food — a 
repugnance  which   may  issue  in  disgust.     This  is  a 

^   Vide  M.  Chaumeil,  Pidagogie  Psychologique. 

2   Vid^  M.  Roerich,  Les  Principes  de  Herbart  sur  V Education, 


I90  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

natural  reaction.  But  a  keener  sensation,  a  pleasing 
flavour,  may  produce  a  reaction  which  may  lead  to 
eating  more  than  he  wants.  Cold  water  is  agreeable 
when  one  is  bathed  in  perspiration ;  the  natural 
reaction  is  inflammation  of  the  lungs.  Are  we  to  wait 
till  it  comes  ?  In  a  word,  a  man  left  to  the  mercy  of 
natural  reactions  would  descend  in  the  animal  scale ; 
he  would  not  even  live. 

Tolstoi',  in  his  school  at  Yasnaia  Poliana,i  takes  as 
his  starting-point  the  principle  that  all  rules  in  schools 
are  illegitimate,  that  the  child's  liberty  is  inviolable, 
and  even  that  children  should  suggest  to  the  master 
the  subjects  they  wish  to  be  taught,  and  the  methods 
to  be  adopted.  Tolstoi*  thinks  that  true  liberty  pre- 
cedes culture,  that  Providence  is  enough  to  turn  men 
left  to  themselves  to  the  true  and  the  good.  Hence 
the  beautiful  disorder  in  his  school,  described  by  him 
in  such  a  charming  way.  The  master  enters  the 
class-room.  On  the  floor  lie  the  squalling  children, 
rolling  in  a  heap  and  shouting  :  "  You're  choking  me, 
boys  !  "  "  Stop  !  stop  pulling  my  hair  !  "  "  Pi6tr 
Mikhailovitch  ! "  shrieks  a  voice  from  the  bottom  of 
the  heap  to  the  master,  "  make  them  let  me  alone  !  " 
"Good-day!  Piotr  Mikhailovitch!"  shout  the  rest, 
abating  none  of  their  noise.  The  master  proceeds 
to  take  the  books  and  distribute  them  to  those 
who  have  followed  him  up  to  the  desk.  Then 
the  boys  on  the  top  of  the  heap  ask  for  books. 
Little  by  little  the  heap  diminishes.  When  the 
majority  have  their  books  the  rest  rush  to  the 
desk  shouting  :  "  One  for  me  !  "  '*  Where  is  mine  ?  " 
"  Give  me  the  book  I  had  yesterday  ! "    "I  want  the 

^  The  account  of  the  anarchic  schools  will  be  found  in  The  Long 
iS";*:?/*?  (Walter  Scott).     (Tr.) 


MORAL  DISCIPLINE   IN   SCHOOL.  I9I 

Koltsof."^  Perhaps  two  are  left,  who  in  the  heat 
of  the  struggle  remain  wrestling  on  the  floor.  Then 
the  others,  seated  on  the  form,  book  in  hand,  cry : 
"What  are  you  dawdling  for?  We  can't  hear  any- 
thing. Stop  ! ''  The  combatants  submit ;  all  out  of 
breath  they  take  their  books  and  sit  down  on  the 
bench,  and  for  the  first  moment  or  so  the  movement 
of  their  legs  betrays  the  excitement  that  has  not  yet 
calmed  down.  The  ardour  for  the  fray  has  vanished, 
and  now  an  ardour  for  work  reigns  throughout  the 
class.  With  the  same  zest  with  which  he  was  a  few 
minutes  ago  pulling  Mitka's  hair,  the  boy  now  reads 
his  Koltsof ;  his  mouth  is  slightly  open,  his  little  eyes 
sparkle,  and  he  sees  nothing  of  what  is  going  on 
around  him — nothing  but  his  book.  "  The  same  effort 
would  now  be  necessary  to  tear  him  from  his  book  as 
would  have  been  required  just  before  to  drag  him  out 
of  the  fight."  The  boys  sit  just  where  they  fancy  : 
forms,  tables,  window-ledges,  are  all  the  same  to 
them;  but  the  arm-chair  is  the  object  of  universal  envy. 
When  one  takes  it  into  his  head  to  instal  himself 
therein,  another  guesses  his  intention,  from  nothing 
but  the  expression  of  his  face ;  both  rush  for  it,  and 
whoever  gets  it,  keeps  it.  The  smarter  of  the  two 
stretches  himself  out  in  it,  his  head  deep  down  in  the 
back  of  the  chair,  but  he  is  carried  away  by  work,  and 
reads  as  earnestly  as  the  others.  "  During  class  I 
have  never  seen  them  chatter,  or  pinch  one  another,  or 
indulge  in  smothered  laughter,  or  uncouth  sounds,  or 
tell  tales  of  one  another  to  the  master."  When  a  boy, 
educated    by    a  ponojnar'^  or   at  the   district  school, 

^  Aleksei  Vasilyevitch  Koltsof  (1809- 1842),  a  distinguished  Russian 
poet.     (Tr. ) 

2  Fonomar  ox  paramonar  is  a  church  ofticial,  a  doorkeeper,     (Tr.) 


192  EDUCATION    AND   HEREDITY. 

comes  up  to  make  a  complaint,  the  only  comfort  he 
gets  is :  "  Well,  are  you  sure  you  did  not  pinch  your- 
self?" 

In  Tolstoi's  opinion,  constraint  by  any  physical 
means  is  impossible.  The  more  the  master  storms, 
the  more  noisy  the  boys  are  ;  his  voice  only  excites 
them.  If  he  succeeds  in  stopping  them,  and  in  turn- 
ing their  attention  in  another  direction,  this  little  sea 
becomes  less  and  less  agitated  until  it  finally  calms 
down.  But  in  most  cases  it  is  best  for  him  to  say 
nothing.  Yet  it  seems  as  if  disorder  is  growing  and 
increasing  every  moment,  as  if  nothing  can  check  it 
but  constraint.  "  Then  all  we  have  to  do  is  to  wait 
until  this  disorder  (or  fire)  has  ended,  and  the  order  of 
the  class  will  then  be  of  a  better  and  more  stable 
character  than  any  we  could  substitute  for  it." 

In  the  evening  the  boys  do  not  care  for  mathe- 
matics and  analysis  ;  they  have  a  peculiar  taste  for 
singing  and  reading,  and  especially  for  stories.  "  What 
is  the  good  of  so  much  mathematics?"  they  say;  "  it  is 
far  better  to  tell  stories."  All  the  evening  lessons  stand 
out  in  sharp  contrast  to  those  of  the  morning,  having 
a  special  characteristic — peace  and  poetry.  "  Come 
into  the  school  at  dusk ;  there  is  no  light  in  the  windows, 
all  is  quiet.  The  snow  on  the  steps  of  the  stairs,  a 
dull,  low  murmur,  a  movement  behind  the  door,  a 
young  rascal,  holding  on  to  the  balustrades,  tearing 
up  two  steps  at  a  time,  are  the  only  signs  that  the 
boys  are  within.  Go  into  the  school,  it  is  almost  too 
dark  to  see,  but  look  at  that  little  fellow's  face  :  he  is 
sitting  down,  gazing  intently  at  the  master;  his  brows 
are  knit,  and  for  the  tenth  time  he  pushes  off  his 
shoulder  the  arm  of  a  schoolfellow  who  is  leaning  on 
him.     Tickle  his  neck,  he   does   not"  even  smile,  he 


MORAL   DISCIPLINE    IN    SCHOOL.  I93 

merely  shakes  his  head  as  though  to  dislodge  a  fly;  he 
is  absolutely  absorbed  by  the  mysterious  and  poetic 
story,  how  the  great  veil  of  the  temple  was  rent  in 
twain,  and  how  darkness  brooded  over  the  land  :  the 
story  is  at  once  entrancing  and  painful.  .  .  .  But  now 
the  master  has  finished.  All  rise  from  their  seats,  and 
crowd  around  him,  each  repeating  all  that  he  remem- 
bers of  the  story,  and  trying  to  out-shout  his  neigh- 
bour. Those  who  are  told  they  need  not  repeat  it 
because  they  know  it  perfectly  are  none  the  quieter 
for  that,  but  rush  up  to  another  master,  or  if  there  is 
no  other  master,  to  a  schoolfellow,  a  stranger,  or  even 
the  stove- lighter ;  they  run  from  one  corner  to 
another,  in  groups  of  twos  and  threes,  each  begging 
the  other  to  hear  him.  It  is  rare  for  a  single  boy  to 
tell  the  tale.  They  divide  into  groups,  each  seeking 
his  equal  in  intelligence,  and  away  they  go,  encourag- 
ing and  correcting  one  another.  *  Come  now,  let  us 
say  it  together  ! '  says  one  boy  to  another.  But  the 
latter,  thinking  he  is  not  a  fair  match,  sends  him  to  a 
third.  At  last,  when  they  have  finished  the  story, 
they  calm  down.  Candles  are  brought,  and  their 
attention  is  diverted  to  something  else.  About  eight 
o'clock  their  eyes  grow  heavy ;  yawns  are  frequent ; 
the  candles  burn  more  dimly,  and  are  not  snuffed  so 
often.  The  elders  are  still  wide  awake,  but  younger 
and  inferior  lads  begin  to  doze,  with  their  elbows  on 
the  table,  to  the  drowsy  hum  of  the  master's  voice." 

When  the  children  are  tired  of  their  work,  or  just 
before  a  holiday,  all  at  once,  without  saying  a  word, 
during  the  second  or  third  lesson  after  dinner,  two  or 
three  boys  dart  into  the  hall  and  quickly  seize  their 
hats.  "  Where  are  you  off  to  ?  "  *'  Home  !  "  "  But 
how    about    your    singing  ? "      "  The    boys    said    it 

13 


194  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

was  time  to  go  home/'  answers  the  youth,  slipping 
towards  the  door  with  his  hat.  "  But  who  gave  them 
leave  ? "  "  The  boys  are  gone,"  is  the  response. 
"  Well,  then,"  says  the  master  angrily,  for  he  is  all 
ready  for  his  lesson,  "just  stop  a  moment!"  But 
another  youth  runs  into  the  class-room,  his  face  all 
aglow,  but  with  a  certain  air  of  embarrassment. 
''What  are  you  stopping  for?"  he  says  in  a  surly 
tone  to  the  lad  who  has  been  kept  back,  and  who  in 
his  hesitation  is  picking  the  wool  from  his  sheep-skin 
cap  with  his  fingers.  "  Look  where  the  other  boys 
are  already !  At  the  blacksmith's,  perhaps,  by  this 
time."  And  both  rush  off  shouting  to  the  master 
from  the  door,  "  Good-bye,  Ivdn  Petrovitch  ! "  And 
the  little  feet  clatter  on  the  stairs,  and  the  boys, 
tumbling,  jumping  like  cats,  falling  down  in  the  snow, 
chasing  each  other,  rush  home,  rending  the  air  with 
their  shouts. 

These  scenes,  says  Tolstoi',  are  reproduced  once  or 
twice  a  week.  It  is  humiliating  and  painful  to  the 
master,  but  he  puts  up  with  them  because  they  give 
all  the  greater  meaning  to  the  five  or  six  lessons 
which  are  freely  and  voluntarily  attended  by  the  boys 
every  day.  If  the  alternative  were  proposed  in  the 
words  :  Would  you  rather  never  have  a  scene  like 
this  the  whole  year  through,  or  would  you  have  them 
recur  every  other  lesson?  Tolstolf  would  choose  the 
latter.  The  school  is  freely  developed,  says  he,  simply 
by  the  principles  laid  down  by  the  masters  and  the 
boys.  In  spite  of  the  master's  authority,  the  boy 
was  always  at  liberty  to  absent  himself  from  school, 
or  even  not  to  listen  to  him  when  he  did  come.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  master  had  the  right,  if  he  wished, 
to  neglect  the  boy  when  at  school,  and  the  power  to 


MORAL   DISCIPLINE   IN   SCHOOL.  195 

act  with  all  the  influence  he  could  bring  to  bear  upon 
most  of  the  boys — upon  them  as  children  at  school, 
and  thus  upon  society  at  large,  of  which  they  were  a 
part.  According  to  Tolstoi*,  this  disorder,  or  "  free 
order,"  only  appears  frightful  to  us  because  we  are 
accustomed  to  the  entirely  different  system  in  which  we 
were  brought  up.  In  this  connection,  as  in  others,  the 
use  of  violence  is  only  based  upon  a  theory  formed,  not 
merely  without  reflection  upon  human  nature,  but  with- 
out even  taking  it  into  account  at  all.  Schoolboys  are 
men,  subject,  small  as  they  are,  to  the  same  necessities 
as  ourselves;  they  are,  like  us,  thinking  beings.  They 
all  want  to  learn,  and  that  is  why  they  go  to  school, 
that  is  why  they  need  no  effort  to  arrive  at  the  conclu- 
sion that  to  learn  anything  they  must  be  subjected  to 
certain  conditions.  Not  only  are  they  men,  but  they 
form  a  society  of  beings  united  by  thoughts  in  common. 
"  Where  two  or  three  are  gathered  together  in  My 
name,  there  am  I  in  the  midst  of  them."  They 
neither  rebel  nor  murmur  when  they  submit  to  the 
only  natural  laws — the  laws  derived  from  nature ; 
submitting  to  your  unseasonable  authority,  they 
nevertheless  do  not  admit  that  your  bells,  your  time- 
tables, and  your  rules  are  legitimate. 

At  the  school  of  Yasna'i'a  Poliana,  when  the  spring 
was  over,  there  were  only  "  two  cases  of  visible  con- 
tusion ; "  one  boy  was  pushed  down  the  steps  and 
hurt  his  leg  (the  wound  healed  in  a  fortnight)  ;  another 
had  his  cheek  burned  with  blazing  pitch,  and  he  had 
a  scar  for  a  couple  of  weeks.  Tolstoi"  concludes  that 
the  school  must  not  interfere  in  discipline,  which  con- 
cerns the  parents  alone  ;  that  the  school  ought  not 
to,  and  has  no  right  to,  punish  or  reward  ;  that  the 
best  discipline  is  to  give  the  boys  absolute  freedom 


196  EDUCATION    AND   HEREDITY. 

to  learn  and  to  settle  their  own  affairs  entirely  by 
themselves. 

TolstoY  and  Spencer  may  both  be  reasonably  blamed 
for  calling  the  system  of  discipline  by  natural  conse- 
quences moral  education.  These  reactions  only  teach 
the  children  the  relations  of  natural  causality  (and 
that,  too,  not  always  with  sufficient  emphasis),  but 
they  are  not  of  a  moral  character.  Spencer,  however, 
thinks  that  natural  reactions  are  apt  to  instil  in  the 
child  the  sentiment  of  responsibility.  Yes,  but  of 
purely  utilitarian  responsibility.  The  object  of  true 
pedagogic  sanctions  is  to  form  the  moral  judgment, 
to  give  birth  to,  to  sustain,  and  to  develop  in  the 
child  internal  sanctions,  pleasure  and  displeasure  of 
the  conscience,  self-satisfaction  and  self-dissatisfac- 
tion. That  is  how  they  are  distinguished  from  purely 
disciplinary  measures.  They  consist  essentially  in 
approbation  and  blame.  They  may  not  always  be 
identical  with  these,  but  they  should  always  be 
referred  to  them  as  the  sign  to  the  thing  signified. 
"  The  moral  consciousness  of  the  pupil  is  developed, 
in  a  measure,  by  contact  with  that  of  the  master, 
manifested  by  approbation  and  blame."  ^ 

We  may  ask  Tolsto'f  why  the  school  should  be 
limited  to  instruction  alone,  leaving  education  to  the 
family,  who  often  acquit  themselves  but  ill  of  their 
task?  The  anarchic  system  of  TolstoY  may  be 
applicable  when  a  Tolstoi*  conducts  the  school ;  if  it 
became  general  it  would  be  intolerable.  We  are  by  no 
means  persuaded  that  wherever  two  or  three  children 
are  gathered  together  the  spirit  of  Christ  is  in  the 
midst  of  them  ;  it  is  more  often  the  spirit  of  the  devil 
— that  is  to  say,  of  primitive  and  ancestral  barbarism. 

1  M.  Pillon. 


TEACHING   OF   CIVIC   DUTIES.  1 97 

Besides,  school  ought  to  be  a  preparation  for  social, 
life.  The  school  of  Tolstoi  may  certainly  prepare  the 
child  for  a  society  such  as  the  great  writer  dreams  of 
— without  judges,  prisons,  or  army  ;  but  anarchy  in 
school  life  is  a  detestable  preparation  for  the  organised 
and  legal  life  of  society  as  it  is  at  present.  The  child 
must  not  be  persuaded  that  its  only  law  after  leaving 
school  is  its  own  sweet  will,  checked  by  that  of  others  ; 
that  life  is  made  for  amusement ;  that  we  study  and 
work  when  we  take  it  into  our  heads ;  that  people  do 
nothing  unless  the  whim  seizes  them.  It  is  not  by 
a  system  of  education  like  this  that  citizens,  to  say 
nothing  of  soldiers,  will  be  made. 

What  deduction,  then,  can  be  drawn  from  Tolstoi's 
experiments?  That,  if  discipline  is  necessary  in  schools, 
it  should  not  be  carried  into  rigid  formalism;  when- 
ever the  moral  influence  of  the  master  is  enough,  let 
us  be  content  with  it ;  but  also,  every  time  the  child 
abuses  his  liberty  or  his  strength,  he  must  be  clearly 
taught,  by  some  sanction  carrying  with  it  its  own 
motive  and  reason,  that  every  human  community  is 
subject  to  laws,  and  not  left  to  the  anarchy  of  which 
the  Slavs  dream. 

IV.  Necessity  for  the  Teaching  of  Civic  Duties  in  all 
stages  of  Instruction. 

Civil  and  moral  instruction  should  be  conjoined. 
Stuart  Mill  said  that  the  voter  ought  at  least  to  be 
capable  of  copying  out  several  lines  of  English,  and 
doing  a  rule-of-three  sum,^  before  placing  his  vote  in 

^  *' I  regard  it  as  wholly  inadmissible  that  any  person  should 
participate  in  the  suffrage  without  being  able  to  read,  write,  and,  I  will 
add,  perform  the  common  operations  of  arithmetic." — ^J.  S.  Mill  on 
Representative  Government^  p.  68.     (Tr.) 


198  EDUCATION    AND    HEREDITY. 

.the  ballot-box.  Spencer  says,  with  more  justice,  that 
the  multiplication  table  will  not  help  you  to  see 
through  the  fallacies  of  socialistic  theories.  What 
does  it  matter  whether  the  working  man  can  read  or 
not,  if  he  only  reads  what  will  confirm  his  delusions  ? 
A  drowning  man  clutches  at  a  straw  ;  a  man  over- 
whelmed with  care  clutches  at  any  social  theory  that 
promises  him  happiness.  What  is  necessary  is  better 
civic  instruction.  Among  working  men  of  every  kind, 
who  are  the  best  instructed  ?  The  artisans  ;  and  it  is 
precisely  from  the  artisans,  with  their  false  ideas,  that 
the  greatest  peril  threatens  us.  "  The  ignorant  peas- 
ant," it  has  been  well  said,  '^  is  less  irrational  than  the 
enlightened  artisan.  A  little  instruction  sometimes 
leaves  the  recipient  a  long  way  off  good  sense  ;  but 
much  instruction  must  bring  him  nearer  to  it. 
If  we  cannot  bring  primary  instruction  to  perfection, 
a  wide  diffusion  of  that  instruction  will  bring  all 
working  men,  peasants  included,  to  the  level  of  the 
artisan,  and  will  give  them  more  power  to  carry  out 
an  unfortunate  policy  or  bad  social  economy."  ^ 

Spencer  and  Bluntschli  agree  in  the  assertion  that 
in  our  democracies  there  is  no  possible  liberty,  no 
possible  vote,  no  possible  security  for  property,  with- 
out a  "good  political  education."  The  school,  and 
especially  the  school  of  the  people,  can  only  be  a 
distant  preparation  for  this  education.  "The  child 
grasps  with  difficulty  the  notion  of  the  State.  We 
can  only  give  him  very  vague  ideas  on  the  political 
and  social  constitution,  and  they  afford  but  little 
interest  to  the  youthful  intellect.  We  have  especially 
to  inspire  the  child  with  public  morality,  civic  virtue, 
patriotism,  and  that  too  by  example  rather  than  by 
^  A.  Fouillee,  La  Propriiti  sociale  et  la  dimocratie^  p.  202. 


TEACHING   OF   CIVIC   DUTIES.  I99 

precept"  But  there  is  always  a  great  gap  to  be  filled 
up,  namely,  the  time  elapsing  between  leaving  school 
— about  fourteen — and  the  age  of  political  majority. 
In  this  interval  it  is  certain  that  the  youth  is  left  to 
himself;  that  he  is  exposed  to  the  danger  of  forgetting 
a  large  part  of  what  has  been  taught  him;  that  civic 
instruction,  in  particular,  is  forgotten  just  when  it  is 
most  necessary.  If  it  is  legitimate  to  require  three  to 
five  years  for  military  training,  would  it  not  be  legiti- 
mate to  require  a  few  hours  a  week  to  give  our  young 
men  positive  ideas  in  political  science  and  consti- 
tutional law?  Defence  against  "the  attack  of  bar- 
barians from  within"  is  as  essentialin  our  democracies 
as  defence  against  the  foe  from  without.  I  am  one  of 
those  who  believe  that  it  would  be  desirable,  during 
the  whole  of  a  young  man's  military  service,  that 
he  should  be  taught  not  merely  his  military  "  theory," 
but  also  what  has  been  called  civic  theory — the 
principles  of  our  constitution,  the  organisation  of  the 
State,  and  the  duties  and  rights  of  the  citizen.  This 
might  be  done  by  text-books  outside  all  party  lines, 
without  either  political  or  religious  bias.^ 

In  Belgium,  examinations  for  the  franchise  have 
been  instituted  :  this  would  be  a  good  example  to 
follow.^ 

^  Raleigh's  Elementary  Politics  (is.,  Clarendon  Press)  will  probably 
occur  to  the  reader  as  an  instance  of  what  has  been  done  in  England  in 
this  way.     (Tr. ) 

2  The  new  Belgian  law  takes  as  the  basis  of  the  franchise  not 
the  census,  but  intellectual  and  moral  capacity.  Candidates  are  sub- 
mitted before  a  jury  to  an  electoral  examination,  comprising  very 
simple  questions  on  morality,  Belgian  history,  constitutional  institutions, 
reading,  writing,  arithmetic,  and  geography. 

Before  adopting  this  conclusion,  experiments  were  made  on  the 
results  already  obtained  by  primary  instruction;  the  militia  who  had 
been  at  school  from  four  to  six  years  were  subjected  to  an  extremely 


200  EDUCATION    AND   HEREDITY. 


V.  Instruction  in  Esthetics. 

At  present  but  little  effort  has  been  made  to  give  a 
really  cesthetic  education.  Historical  education  has 
received  attention,  but  aesthetic  education  has  not 
received  its  share.  When  literature  is  taught,  it  is 
from  the  point  of  view  of  names  and  dates,  while  in 
aesthetics  dates  are  of  but  secondary  importance.  We 
must  give  the  first  place  in  the  different  degrees  of 
instruction  to  the  beautiful,  and  not  merely  to  literary, 
but  also  to  artistic  beauty.  In  the  depths  of  every 
man  is  a  fund  of  enthusiasm  which  only  asks  room 
for  expansion  ;  unfortunately  it  too  often  expands  on 
things  not  worth  the  trouble.  I  knew  an  honest  man 
who  left   his   province,  his  home,  and  his  everyday 

simple  examination.  They  were  asked,  for  instance:  "What  are  the 
four  great  towns  of  Belgium,  and  upon  what  rivers  are  they  situated  ?  " 
Thirty-five  per  cent,  could  not  answer  at  all ;  44  per  cent,  were  only 
partly  right.  To  the  question,  "By  whom  are  the  laws  made  ?  "  50  per 
cent,  were  unable  to  answer  at  all ;  35  per  cent,  said  they  were  made 
by  the  king,  or  by  the  king  and  queen,  or  by  the  ministers,  or  by  the 
government,  or  by  the  senate  ;  15  per  cent,  gave  an  accurate  answer. 
Asked  to  name  an  illustrious  Belgian,  d"]  per  cent,  named  all  kinds  of 
foreign  dignitaries  in  various  countries ;  20  per  cent,  could  only  name 
Leopold  I.  or  Leopold  II.  Such  were  the  unsatisfactory  results  of  the 
Belgian  law  of  1842  on  primary  instruction. 

Bluntschli,  entering  into  no  details,  proposes  to  the  State  as  a 
model  "the  profound  subtlety  of  the  Church,"  which  is  able  to  fill 
young  minds  with  its  teaching,  and  to  consecrate,  in  a  measure,  the 
entry  of  the  Christian  into  life  by  what  is  called  "confirmation." 
Bluntschli  would  like  a  kind  of  "civic  confirmation  and  consecration." 
"  Before  being  allowed  to  exercise  his  privileges  as  a  citizen,  every 
man  should  have  undergone  a  course  of  civic  education,  or  some  corre- 
sponding examination.  If  necessary,  an  annual  State  festival  would 
commemorate  this  civic  consecration.  A  sense  of  what  the  State  really 
is  would  thus  grow  in  men's  minds,  and  the  intellectual  and  moral 
capacity  of  the  elector  would  be  better  secured." 


INSTRUCTION    IN    ESTHETICS.  20I 

life,  to  make  a  journey  to  the  Pyrenees,  for  the  sole 
purpose  of  eating  trout  caught  in  Lake  Gaube.  That 
was  gormandising  carried  to  the  verge  of  enthusiasm. 
The  object  of  education  is  not  to  suppress  enthusiasm, 
but  to  direct  it  towards  objects  worthy  of  it — towards 
the  good  and  the  beautifuL 

There  are  two  kinds  of  imagination  :  one  consists 
pre-eminently  in  approaching  things  from  the  point 
of  view  of  resemblance.  Metaphor  arises  from — first 
the  involuntary,  and  then  the  voluntary  blending  of 
images.  The  imagination  of  children  and  young 
people  is  essentially  metaphorical  ;  their  language 
even  is  composed  of  figures  of  every  kind.  The 
analytic  spirit,  on  the  other  hand,  consists  in  the 
apprehension  of  the  differences  rather  than  the 
resemblances  of  things,  in  defining  the  outlines  of 
perceptions.  The  mind,  possessing  the  highest  form 
of  imagination,  is  able  to  represent  to  itself  points 
both  of  resemblance  and  difference,  and  to  distinguish 
all  its  percepts  and  concepts,  and  at  the  same 
time  to  grasp  the  point  at  which  they  touch,  and 
the  features  they  have  in  common.  The  creative 
imagination  is  constituted  by  this  double  faculty  of 
perceiving  resemblance  and  difference.  The  percep- 
tion of  differences  is  the  more  voluntary  part  of  the 
imagination  :  it  is  the  part  of  genius  involving  work 
and  even  effort.  Creation  by  an  artist  or  thinker 
presupposes  two  things — first,  spontaneous  and  con- 
fused synthesis ;  then  order  and  analysis  introduced 
into  that  synthesis.  To  create  is,  in  a  certain  sense, 
to  unify  (all  is  one  in  the  universe)  ;  but  it  is  also  to 
see  variety  in  the  indistinct  unity  of  things.  The 
work  of  art  and  even  of  science  is  always  more  or  less 
a  metaphor,  but  a  metaphor  conscious  of  itself,  of  its 


202  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

different  terms,  and  of  the  determinate  relation  which 
connects  them.  The  child  must  be  accustomed  to 
keep  its  imagination  under  control,  to  guide  it,  and 
ipso  facto  to  make  it  analytic, — to  change  the  play  of 
imagination  into  methodic  work,  into  an  art.  The 
excess  of  a  child's  imagination,  like  that  of  primitive 
races,  is  largely  due  to  the  greater  indistinctness  of 
the  perceptions,  which  are  more  easily  transformed 
into  one  another  at  will.  They  see  what  they  wish 
to  see  in  the  confusion  of  things,  just  as  we  see  shapes 
in  clouds.  As  yet  the  name  is  for  the  child  insepar- 
able from  the  object ;  language  is  not  for  him  the 
algebra  it  becomes  for  us :  if  we  speak  to  him 
of  anything,  he  sees  it,  and  when  he  does  not  see 
it,  he  cannot  understand  what  we  are  talking  about. 
He  distinguishes  clearly  neither  time,  place,  nor 
persons.  The  imagination  of  children  has  therefore 
for  its  starting-point  the  confusion  of  images  produced 
by  their  reciprocal  attraction  ;  they  blend  the  past 
with  the  present  or  the  future  ;  they  do  not  live  as 
we  do,  in  the  real^  in  the  determinate ;  they  assign  no 
definite  limits  to  a  sensation  or  an  image  ;  in  other 
words,  being  unable  to  distinguish  or  perceive  any- 
thing very  clearly,  they  dream  apropos  of  everything. 
The  child  not  having  yet  developed  the  art  of  recol- 
lection, everything  is  in  the  present  to  him.  A  con- 
fusion between  the  present  and  the  past  is  often 
visible  in  the  child.  A  boy  of  two  and  a  half  years 
old  dropped  his  ball  the  other  day  from  the  top  of  a 
balcony.  The  ball  was  restored,  and  since  then 
he  has  played  with  it  a  hundred  times ;  in  spite  of 
that,  he  brings  me  suddenly  to  the  balcony,  and 
then,  in  a  pathetic  tone  of  voice,  but  with  genuine 
grief,  tells  me  he  has  dropped  it  over.      The   child 


iNStRUCtlON   IN   ESTHETICS.  203 

retains  and  reproduces  images  much  more  than  he 
invents  them  or  thinks  them ;  and  that  is  precisely 
why  he  has  no  clear  idea  of  time :  the  reproductive 
imagination,  being  isolated,  is  not  distinguished  from, 
nor  is  it  opposed  to,  the  constructive  imagination, 
for  the  latter  is  only  the  higher  development  of  the 
former.  The  child  or  the  animal  have  really  no  past — 
that  is  to  say,  no  totality  of  recollections  systematised 
and  in  antithesis  to  the  present  or  to  the  future, 
which  they  imagine  and  construct  in  their  own 
fashion.  The  faculty  of  generalisation,  so  great  and 
so  often  noticed  in  children,  arises  from  their  much 
clearer  perception  of  resemblances  than  differences. 
In  the  case  of  my  boy,  two  and  a  half  years  old, 
every  fruit  is  an  apple,  every  colour  attracting  his 
eyes  is  red,  because  that  is  the  essentially  salient 
colour.  When  lying  in  his  cradle  he  shows  me  the 
bottom  and  then  the  side  of  the  bed — "  this  is  the  road, 
and  that  is  the  ditch ; "  he  imagines  these  things  of 
himself  without  ever  having  been  taught  to  play  such 
a  game.  This  is  because  he  is  led  by  superficial 
analogies  so  powerfully  that  in  a  short  time  he  is  not 
conscious  of  differences ;  I  am  quite  sure  that  when 
he  goes  to  sleep  he  really  thinks  he  is  right  in  the 
middle  of  a  white  road,  with  ditches  on  the  right  and 
left.  Children  also  constantly  deceive  themselves 
about  persons.  If  something  has  been  broken,  and  I 
ask  my  little  boy,  "Who  has  broken  that?"  he 
almost  always  answers,  "  Baby."  This  is  because  it  is 
generally  Baby  that  has  done  any  mischief.  Besides, 
in  his  own  eyes,  he  is  the  centre  of  the  world,  and  he 
therefore  considers  himself  not  only  as  the  object,  but 
also  as  the  cause  of  everything  that  is  done. 

Imagination,  as  I  have  already  said,  begins  with 


204  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

an  involuntary  confusion  of  images,  which,  at  first 
unconscious,  becomes  conscious  in  the  course  of 
correction,  causes  a  certain  pleasure,  and  then  is 
voluntarily  repeated  for  the  sake  of  that  pleasure. 
The  play  of  the  imagination  was  at  first  an  error.  I 
can  compare  it  to  nothing  better  than  to  a  gentle  fall, 
causing  no  pain,  which  amuses,  and  though  on  the 
first  occasion  an  accident,  becomes  a  game  at  which 
the  child  plays.  How  fond  children  are,  for  instance, 
of  rolling  on  the  grass  ! 

Fiction  is  natural  to  children.  It  is  a  mistake  to 
say  that,  as  a  rule,  they  lie  artificially  to  escape,  for 
example,  a  punishment.  The  lie  is  in  most  cases  the 
first  exercise  of  the  imagination,  the  first  invention, 
the  germ  of  art  The  child  of  two  and  a  half  alluded 
to  above  frequently  lies  to  himself,  telling  stories 
out  loud  in  which  he  inverts  the  actual  occurrences, 
corrects  them,  and  generally  gives  them  a  better  turn 
than  they  really  have.  For  instance,  he  says  to 
himself — "  Papa  does  not  speak  properly :  he  says 
^sevette';  baby  does  speak  properly:  he  says  ^ serviette'^' 
Naturally,  what  did  happen  was  just  the  opposite, 
and  the  child  had  been  corrected.  All  day  long  the 
boy  goes  on  in  this  way,  transposing  events  that 
really  occurred,  and  changing  the  part  he  himself 
plays  in  them.  The  lie  is  the  first  romance  of  child- 
hood, and  often  is  concocted  to  embellish  what  has 
really  happened  ;  the  romance  of  the  philosopher — a 
metaphysical  hypothesis,  and  ordinarily  told  for  the 
same  purpose — is  sometimes  the  highest  class  of 
fiction.  Sincerity  is  a  very  complex  result  of  social 
life ;  it  springs  from  human  respect,  a  sense  of  per- 
sonal dignity,  interest  properly  understood,  etc.  The 
child  himself  is  only  sincere  from  the  spontaneity. 


INSTRUCTION    IN    .ESTHETICS.  20S 

transparence,  and  natural  purity  of  his  soul ; 
but  unless  the  words  leave  his  lips  under  the  im- 
mediate pressure  of  some  emotion,  he  henceforth  is 
merely  translating  the  play  of  incoherent  images 
haunting  his  brain.  He  plays  with  words  as  with 
everything  else ;  he  tests  them,  puts  them  in  all  pos- 
sible positions,  combines  the  same  ideas  in  the  most 
unexpected  way,  and  makes  phrases  just  as  he  makes 
"  houses,"  "  gardens,"  and  "  pies  "  out  of  sand,  without 
troubling  himself  about  reality.  And  when  he  has 
taken  a  false  direction,  his  persistence  is  due  to  his 
efforts  to  mark  his  personality.  In  a  word,  he  is 
perpetually  confusing  what  he  really  has  done  with 
what  he  would  have  liked  to  do,  what  he  has  seen 
done,  what  he  has  said  he  has  done,  and  what  he  has 
been  told  he  did.  The  past  is  to  him  the  dominant 
image  in  the  confusion  of  interwoven  images. 

In  proportion  as  the  child  has  a  natural  turn  for 
invention,  and  is  careless  of  the  reality  of  his  stories, 
he  is  the  less  a  hypocrite  and  a  dissembler.  The  real 
lie,  the  moral  lie,  is  dissimulation,  which  only  arises 
from  fear ;  it  is  in  direct  ratio  to  the  ill-judged 
severity  of  parents,  and  to  unscientific  education. 
Far  from  being  naturally  inclined  to  hide  an  act  of 
disobedience,  the  child  is  rather  led  to  tell  it,  and  to 
place  it  in  bold  relief,  because  in  his  eyes  it  is  a  mark 
of  personal  independence.  My  little  lad  always 
comes  and  tells  me  the  little  follies  he  has  committed 
in  the  course  of  the  day,  sometimes  in  a  boasting 
view,  sometimes  duly  penitent ;  I  have  made  it  a  rule 
never  to  punish  him  for  anything  he  thus  tells  me  of 
his  own  accord,  but  only  when  I  catch  him  in  the  act; 
my  only  object  is  to  substitute  repentance  for  satis- 
faction in  these  acts  of   folly,  and   I   am  gradually 


206  EDUCATION    AND   HEREDITY. 

succeeding  in  this  by  gentle  and  always  very  short 
reprimands. 

To  reproduce  a  fact  or  a  story  with  changes  is  a 
fertile  source  of  amusement  for  children,  but  they 
have  difficulty  in  doing  it.  It  is  really  hard  work  to 
them,  as  we  may  see  when  we  watch  them  in  the  act. 
A  little  four-year-old  friend  of  mine  said  to  me : 
"  Listen,  I  am  going  to  tell  you  a  story ;  but  it  is  not 
the  story  of  little  Poucet.^  Once  upon  a  time  there 
lived  in  a  forest  a  very  little  boy,  the  son  of  a  wood- 
cutter ;  but  it  was  not  little  Poucet,"  etc.  And  so  the 
story  went  on,  always  accompanied  by  the  parenthesis, 
"  This  is  like  the  story  of  little  Poucet,  but  it  is  not 
really  the  same  story."  ^ 

The  true  culture  of  the  imagination  is  Art  in  its 
various  phases  :  the  child  must  be  made  an  artist — i.e.^ 
we  must  introduce  into  the  spontaneous  play  of  his 
imagination  the  laws  of  the  true  and  the  beautiful, 
which  constitute,  so  to  speak,  the  very  morality  of  the 
imagination.  Education,  therefore,  ought  to  be  pro- 
foundly cesthetic.  The  essential  part  of  instruction  is 
to  teach  the  child  to  admire  what  is  good,  to  become 

^  This  is  our  old  friend  "  Hop-o'-my-thumb."  (Tr.) 
^  A  little  girl  is  often  much  more  devoted  to  an  old,  spoiled,  and 
disfigured  doll  than  to  a  new  doll,  although  possessing  a  face  of  a 
much  more  human  character,  because  her  imagination  has  more  power 
over  the  former  than  the  latter,  and  she  transfigures  it  by  her  recollec- 
tions or  the  fictions  of  the  moment.  "  One  day,"  said  a  lady,  telling 
me  her  recollections,  **  I  wanted  to  play  more  seriously  at  being 
*  mother.'  I  was  then  a  biggish  girl.  I  left  all  my  dolls,  and  making 
a  bundle  of  my  table  napkin,  I  spent  half  the  night  cradling  this 
improvised  baby  in  my  arms." 

It  is  said  that  what  little  girls  really  are  attached  to  in  their  dolls  is 
the  representation  of  the  children  they  may  have  in  after  years,  that 
they  are  simply  playing  at  being  ''mother."  This  is  not  quite  true. 
"When  I  was  a  little  girl,  I  had  a  big  ball  of  various  colours  that  I 
was  really  passionately  fond  of;  I  never  let  it  out  of  my  sight;  I  used 


INSTRUCTION    IN    ESTHETICS.  207 

himself  capable  of  imagining  things  pretty,  beautiful, 
and  graceful.  Knowledge  properly  so  called,  I  again 
repeat,  only  comes  afterwards,  and  its  moralising 
influence  only  begins,  as  it  has  been  pointed  out,  at 
the  moment  it  ceases  to  be  merely  a  tool  and  becomes 
an  artistic  object. 

An  image  is  the  best  instrument  for  clearing  up  the 
ideas  of  a  child — perhaps  of  all  of  us.  The  poet  is 
pre-eminently  he  who  best  perceives  the  relation  of 
form  to  emotion  and  thought ;  he  elicits  by  an  image 
what  is  latent  and  ignored  within  us.  That  is  why 
the  ancients  saw  in  the  poet  an  almost  divine  being — 
at  any  rate  a  being  divinely  inspired ;  that  is  why 
they  picture  Orpheus  as  the  educator  even  of  Nature 
herself,  and  that  is  why  they  made  of  their  poets  the 
first  and  the  only  educators,  so  to  speak,  of  their 
youth.  The  moral,  thinking,  and  feeling  being  has 
yet  to  be  created  in  the  child  ;  and  just  as  we  do  not 
profess  to  leave  the  child  to  discover  the  fundamental 
laws  of  science  (assuming  him  capable  of  such  dis- 
covery), so  we  ought  not  to  expect  him  unaided  to 
attain  to  all  the  most  elevated  sentiments ;  he  must 
be  brought  to  such  a  level  little  by  little  ;  he  must  be 
taught  not  only  the  discoveries  and  acquisitions,  but 
also  the  ideal  aspirations  of  the  human   mind,  from 

to  clasp  it  to  my  heart  as  if  it  were  a  living  being  very  dear  to  me,  and 
I  always  used  the  utmost  precaution  when  I  played  with  it  for  fear  of 
breaking  it  or  hurting  it.  I  used  to  feel  a  kind  of  regret  that  a  ball 
had  to  bounce  up  and  down  in  all  directions;  in  reality  I  only  loved  it 
because  it  was  a  companion,  a  real  friend.  The  doll's  eyes  have  no 
expression  but  what  the  child  gives  it,  and  the  expression  is  only  given 
in  the  process  of  time.  To  love  a  being  you  must  live  with  it,  and 
this  is  still  more  true  of  dolls  than  men." 

'*The  less  individuality  the  doll  has,  the  more  it  is  appreciated  by 
the  child,  who  can  the  better  utilise  it  as  a  lay  figure  in  many  different 
characters." — Galton,  Enquiries  into  Human  Faculty^  p.  io8.     (Tr.) 


208  EDUCATION    AND   HEREDITY. 

which,  in  fact,  all  science  springs.  In  young  people 
especially  an  appeal  must  be  made  to  the  heart,  the 
imagination,  and  the  senses,  before  addressing  the 
intellect;  before  the  imagination  can  see,  every  object 
must  have  form  and  colour.  Even  the  heart  needs 
the  illumination  of  the  eyes.  Thus  the  young  child, 
when  incapable  of  noticing  the  care  lavished  upon  it, 
is  nevertheless  conscious  of  the  mother's  love  by  the 
sudden  gentleness  of  her  glance,  by  her  caressing 
gestures,  by  the  accent  of  her  voice  as  she  seems  to 
linger  over  the  lullaby.  That  is  the  tenderness  of  the 
mother  made  visible  to  the  eyes  and  to  the  heart; 
and  therefore  it  is  the  poetry  of  maternal  love.  The 
distinctive  characteristic  of  poetry  is  that  it  surges  up 
into  the  heart  and  overflows  just  as  love  itself;  it  out- 
strips the  visible  form  in  which  it  is  manifested,  and 
beyond  this  it  presents  something  of  the  infinite. 
The  sculptor  is  as  the  poet.  When  the  chisel  hews 
the  marble,  it  is  not  to  "  embody  "  in  it  the  idea,  but 
rather  to  give  birth  to  the  idea,  and  to  make  it  issue 
from  inert  matter  ;  as  the  statue  "  leaps "  from  the 
block,  as  the  outlines  become  definite  and  the  features 
appear,  the  expression — which  gives  life  and  reality 
to  the  whole — at  the  same  time  seems  to  emerge; 
like  an  impalpable  and  luminous  ray  of  light,  it  runs 
over  and  plays  on  this  inert  matter  from  which  it 
springs,  on  the  visible  shape  above  which  it  hovers, 
and  thus  it  is  projected  into  our  eyes,  our  hearts,  and 
the  very  depths  of  our  being.  Poetry  is  still  more 
expressive.  By  its  aid  the  sense  for  words  becomes 
wider,  images  reach  the  point  of  symbolism.  As 
poetry  leaves  us  to  guess  more  than  it  tells  us,  it  is 
within  the  scope  of  alike  the  youngest  and  the  ripest 
minds,  each  understanding  it  according  to  its  powers. 


INSTRUCTION    IN   ESTHETICS.  209 

In  its  deepest  sense  it  appears  to  us  as  the  mirror  in 
which  are  reflected  and  blended  into  a  single  image 
what  our  eyes  perceive  in  the  outer  world,  and  what 
our  thought  anticipates  or  divines  in  the  apparently 
impenetrable  inner  world.  Let  us  then  teach  our 
children  to  know,  and  especially  to  understand,  the 
poetry  to  which  at  all  periods  of  life  we  return  so 
many  times,  sometimes  for  help  to  hope,  sometimes 
for  help  to  forget. 

The  aesthetic  qualities  are  the  most  likely  to  be  trans- 
mitted by  heredity;  it  is  therefore  of  importance  that 
they  should  be  maintained  in  their  purity,  and  unceas- 
ingly developed.  The  Greek  was  born  with  natural 
taste,  with  an  eye  and  an  ear  for  the  beautiful.  So  it 
is  with  the  Frenchman.  Sense  and  sentiment  play 
a  leading  role  in  aesthetics.  Now  perfection  and 
delicacy  of  sense  and  sentiment  are  transmitted  by 
heredity.  They  may  also  be  lost  ;  we  must  be  care- 
ful not  to  allow  such  a  precious  heritage  to  pass  away 
from  us  through  our  neglect  of  aesthetic  education. 

"  Are  the  fine  arts  necessary  to  the  people  ? " 
Pedagogues,  says  Tolstoi*,  as  a  rule  hesitate  and  are 
perplexed  in  dealing  with  this  question.  Plato  alone 
boldly  answered  it  in  the  negative.^  Some  say, 
"  Yes,  but  with  certain  restrictions  ;  it  would  be  detri- 
mental to  social  order  if  every  one  had  the  oppor- 
tunity of  being  an  artist."  Others  say,  "  Certain  arts 
can  only  exist  in  a  certain  degree  in  a  certain  class 
of  society."  Again,  "the  arts  require  exclusive  and 
single-hearted  service."  And  finally,  "great  talent 
should  be  afforded  the  opportunity  of  entire  devotion 

^  Plato,  Republic,  bk.  iii.,  sec.  401.  —  Vide  Nettleship's  Essay  on 
"The  Theory  of  Education  in  Plato's  Republic,"  in  Abbott's  Hellenica 
(Rivington),  pp.  113-130.     (Tr.) 

14 


2IO  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

to  art.''  Tolstoi's  conclusion  is  that  all  this  is  unfair. 
He  believes  that  the  want  of  artistic  enjoyment  and 
culture  exists  in  all  human  beings,  whatever  their  race 
or  environment ;  that  this  is  a  legitimate  craving,  and 
should  be  satisfied.  Elevating  this  maxim  to  the 
dignity  of  an  axiom,  he  adds  that  if  the  pleasures  and 
the  universal  culture  of  art  are  fraught  with  incon- 
venience and  discord,  this  is  due  to  the  character  and 
tendencies  of  our  art ;  "  we  should  give  to  the  young 
generation  the  opportunity  of  creating  art  that  will  be 
new  alike  in  matter  and  fundamental  construction." 
"  Every  child  of  the  masses  has  the  same — nay, 
greater  rights  to  the  pleasures  of  art  than  we,  the 
children  of  the  privileged  classes,  whom  the  impera- 
tive necessity  of  protracted  toil  does  not  constrain, 
whom  all  the  luxuries  of  life  surround."  And  again, 
**  One  of  these  two  must  hold  :  either  the  arts  in 
general  are  harmful  and  useless,  which  is  not  so 
strange  a  theory  as  it  seems  at  the  first  glance ;  or, 
every  individual,  whatever  his  rank  or  occupation,  has 
a  right  to  art.  To  ask  if  the  masses  have  a  right  to 
art  is  tantamount  to  asking  if  they  have  a  right  to 
food,  if  they  have  a  right  to  satisfy  the  necessities  of 
their  human  nature."  No!  The  question  is  not  a 
question  of  right ;  what  is  of  importance  is  to  know  if 
the  food  we  offer  or  refuse  to  the  masses  is  good.  So, 
by  placing  within  the  reach  of  the  masses,  as  far  as 
is  in  our  power,  certain  branches  of  knowledge,  and 
by  ascertaining  the  amount  of  harm  done  by  those 
branches,  I  conclude,  not  that  the  masses  are  vicious 
because  they  do  not  accept  that  knowledge,  not  that 
they  are  as  yet  too  undeveloped  to  accept  and  utilise 
it,  but  that  the  knowledge  itself  is  abnormal  and 
vicious,    and    that    with     the    aid     of    the     masses 


INSTRUCTION    IN    ESTHETICS.  211 

themselves  we  must  devise  fresh  branches  which  will  be 
suitable  to  all — to  the  fashionable  world  and  the  toil- 
ing myriads  alike.  Such  arts,  such  branches  of  know- 
ledge as  survive  among  us  and  do  not  seem  harmful, 
but  cannot  survive  among  the  masses,  and  do  seem 
harmful, — such  arts,  etc.,  are  not  those  that  are 
generally  necessary ;  and  we  live  in  this  environ- 
ment only  because  we  are  depraved,  like  those  who 
sit  with  impunity  for  five  or  six  hours  at  a  time  in  the 
fetid  atmosphere  of  a  workshop  or  a  public-house,  and 
who  are  but  little  inconvenienced  by  breathing  an  air 
which  would  prove  fatal  to  others  not  inured  to  it.  It 
may  be  asked :  "  Who  says  the  knowledge  and  the 
arts  of  the  intellectual  classes  are  false  ?  Why  do  you 
conclude  they  are  false  because  the  masses  do  not 
accept  them  ?  "  All  questions  of  this  kind  may  be 
very  simply  answered:  "Because  we  are  thousands,  and 
they  are  millions.  As  for  the  trite  and  trivial  paradox 
that  preparation  is  needed  for  the  appreciation  of  the 
beautiful,  what  kind  of  man  states  it,  why  is  it  stated, 
what  is  there  to  prove  it  ?  It  is  only  a  subterfuge  for 
escape  from  the  cul  de  sac  into  which  we  have  been 
driven  by  the  untenable  character  of  our  standpoint, 
viz.,  the  making  of  art  an  exclusive  privilege  of  a 
class.  Why  are  the  beauty  of  the  sun,  of  the  human 
countenance,  of  a  ballad,  of  love  and  sacrifice,  acces- 
sible to  each  of  us,  and  yet  we  do  not  need  special 
preparation  for  our  appreciation  of  them  ?  " 

"  Because  we  are  thousands,  and  they  are  millions," 
says  Tolstoi.  If  this  is  not  the  right  of  the  strongest, 
at  any  rate  it  is  the  right  of  the  greatest  number.  To 
consider  false  what  the  majority  of  men  fail  to  see 
and  believe,  is  to  be  rather  like  the  contemporaries  of 
Christopher  Columbus,  who  denied  the  existence  of 


212  EDUCATION    AND   HEREDITY. 

America.  Should  we  disbelieve  in  the  existence  of 
stars  merely  because  they  are  beyond  our  view  ? 
Tolstoi'  is  certainly  right  when  he  tells  us  modern  art 
has  unhealthy  tendencies  which  we  accept  because  we 
are  accustomed  to  them — so  accustomed  to  them,  in 
fact,  that  we  make  a  kind  of  abstraction  of  them  ;  we 
instinctively  evade  the  convention  of  a  new  style, 
which  has  replaced  what  may  be  called  the  "  cere- 
mony "  of  classical  works  ;  we  only  see,  and  we  only 
want  to  see,  the  beautiful  side  of  a  work — in  fact,  just 
that  part  of  it  which  makes  it  a  work  of  art.  We 
may  safely  assert  that  if  a  work  of  art  enjoys  per- 
manent success,  that  success  is  due  in  some  measure 
to  whatever  it  possesses  of  the  beautiful  and  the  true. 
Tolstoif  dreams  of  a  great  and  popular  art,  quite  close 
to  nature,  simple  and  elevated,  pure  as  the  air  and  the 
light,  without  the  affectation,  the  hyper-refinement, 
and  morbid  character  of  our  arts.  The  dream  is  a 
beautiful  dream,  and  it  is  good  to  have  such  visions. 
Extreme  of  refinement  is  not  depth,  and  art  can  only 
gain  by  being — at  any  rate  partly — accessible  to  all, 
and  thus  tending  to  the  universal.  But  to  go  so  far 
as  to  condemn  in  art  whatever  is  not  as  patent  as  the 
light  of  day  is  really  to  restrict  it.  Nothing  will  ever 
make  the  simplest  among  us  seize  at  the  outset  what 
self-conscious  thought  has  been  gradually  led  to 
understand  and  express.  We  must  ourselves  pursue 
anew  the  road  traced  out  by  others  if  we  wish  to 
follow  them.  The  artistic  education  of  the  eye  begins 
in  little  children  with  the  mere  distinctions  of  colours  ; 
and  its  beginning  so  early  in  life  is  a  further  reason 
for  continuing  later.  To  maintain  his  position,  Tolstoi' 
unjustifiably  connects  artistic  beauty  with  moral 
beauty.     If  it  is  true  that  every  one  can  understand 


INSTRUCTION   IN   ESTHETICS.  21 3 

the  beauty  of  love  and  sacrifice ;  it  is  because  moral 
beauty  springs  from  the  very  heart  of  man,  and  is 
radiated  without;  while  the  beauty  of  things,  to  be 
thoroughly  understood,  should  re-enter  the  heart, 
being  brought  back  thither  by  emotion ;  the  one  is 
ours  already,  the  other  should  become  ours.  We  all 
can  see  the  sun,  but  we  do  not  all  admire  it  in  the 
same  degree.  It  is  a  paradox  to  pretend  that  no 
initiation  is  necessary  even  for  the  comprehension  of 
simple  and  natural  art;  unfortunately,  that  is  just 
what  we  understand  last  of  all.  To  believe  that 
children  and  the  populace  (that  mass  of  poor  grown- 
up children)  will  not  find  more  pleasure  in  flaring 
daubs  than  in  fine  engravings,  in  the  swing  and 
rhythm  of  dance  music  than  in  a  sublime  and  simple 
song,  is  a  pathetic  instance  of  love  for  the  masses 
carried  to  the  verge  of  blindness.  Who  will  give  us 
an  art  at  once  noble  and  popular,  an  art  that  is  really 
classical  and  in  every  detail  educative  ?  Meanwhile, 
let  us  select  from  our  works  of  art  those  that  are  the 
healthiest,  simplest,  and  most  elevated,  and  let  us 
place  them  within  the  reach  of  all.  Perhaps,  after  all 
the  arts  of  this  period  of  decadence  have  passed 
away,  we  shall  see  a  new  art  revive  and  flourish,  young 
and  full  of  life,  destined  to  become  one  of  the  forms 
of  the  religion  of  the  world. 

"If  it  is  true,"  says  M.  Ravaisson,  "  that  the 
imagination  of  children,  and  especially  the  children 
of  the  masses,  is  always  more  developed  than  their 
reasoning  powers,  does  it  not  follow,  not  merely  that 
a  place  that  it  does  not  at  present  possess  should  be 
awarded  to  the  cultivation  of  the  imagination,  but 
that  such  a  culture  should  take  the  most  prominent 
position  in  primary  instruction?"     It  is,  in   fact,  of 


214  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

the  greatest  moment  to  direct  every  nascent  faculty, 
especially  when  that  faculty  is  connected  with  what 
has  been  called  our  native  fancy.  In  these  days  art 
in  the  most  general  sense  plays  a  certain  part  in  the 
education  of  the  higher  classes  ;  but  in  the  education 
of  the  lower  classes  there  is  nothing  of  the  kind  ;  now 
children  and  young  people  of  all  ranks  in  life  should 
be  brought  up  in  hymnis  et  canticis :  "  this  is  how  the 
ancients  nurtured  their  youth  in  a  poetry  at  once 
religious  and  patriotic,  and  in  an  art  derived  from  the 
same  sources ;  thus  they  were  nurtured  in  the  culture 
of  the  highest  beauty.  Instead  of  letting  itself  be 
almost  entirely  overrun  by  a  pseudo-utilitarianism 
which  leaves  without  culture  those  faculties  from 
which  others  ought  to  receive  an  impulse,  why  should 
not  modern  education  be  inspired  by  the  traditions  of 
old  ?  And  I  may  add,  that  by  that  inspiration  the 
great  problem  would  be  solved,  to  which  modern 
systems  of  pedagogy,  from  Rousseau  to  Pestalozzi 
downwards,  have  given  an  inadequate  solution — 
i.e.^  the  problem  how  to  interest  children  in  their 
studies,  especially  the  children  of  the  primary  schools." 
M.  Ravaisson  remarks  that  "  beauty  is  the  watchword 
of  the  universe  ; "  he  adds,  with  somewhat  more  truth, 
that  **  beauty  is  the  watchword  of  education.''^ 

Without  being  as  anxious  as  M.  Ravaisson  with 
regard  to  the  results  that  purely  manual  work  may 
have  in  our  schools,  I  think  that  that  kind  of  work 
which,  as  I  have  said  before,  is  exercised  upon  matter, 
must  be  completed  by  both  a  feeling  for  and  a  study  of 
form — by  aesthetics.  Every  trade,  every  occurrence  of 
daily  life,  requires  what  Leonardo  da  Vinci  called  "  a 
good  eye.*'     "  It  is  the  eye,  in  fact,"  said  this  great 

^  Ravaisson,  Dictionnaire  de  Pedagogic ^  article  "  Dessin." 


INSTRUCTION    IN    ESTHETICS.  21 5 

master,  "  which  has  discovered  all  the  arts,  from 
astronomy  to  navigation,  from  painting  to  the  craft  of 
the  locksmith  and  carpenter,  from  architecture  and 
hydraulics  to  agriculture." 

Drawing  and  singing  are  the  popular  arts  par 
excellence^  and  those  therefore  which  may  be  the 
least  removed  from  nature.  It  will  be  said  :  If  draw- 
ing is  really  required  in  the  popular  schools,  it  can 
only  be  technical  drawing,  applied  to  the  purposes  of 
life — the  drawing  of  a  plough,  a  machine,  a  vessel, 
etc.,  in  fact,  drawing  considered  as  auxiliary  to  linear 
drawing.  "But,"  retorts  Tolstoi  with  considerable 
truth,  "  experience  has  shown  the  inanity  and  injustice 
of  the  technical  programme.  Most  children,  after  four 
months  at  drawing  restricted  to  technical  applications, 
with  no  reproductions  of  faces,  animals,  or  landscapes, 
were  eventually  almost  disgusted  at  the  eternal  copy- 
ing of  technical  objects ;  and  their  feeling  their  craving 
for  artistic  drawing  was  so  strong,  that  they  made  for 
themselves  copy-books  in  which  they  drew  on  the 
sly,  men,  horses  with  four  legs  starting  from  the  same 
point,  and  so  on."  Every  child  is  conscious  of  an 
instinct  of  independence  which  it  would  be  dangerous 
to  stifle  by  any  teaching  whatever,  and  which,  in  this 
case,  is  manifested  by  irritation  against  the  copying  of 
models  for  imitation.  If  the  pupil  does  not  learn  at 
school  how  to  create,  he  will  only  imitate  all  his  life, 
because,  when  they  have  learned  how  to  copy,  very 
few  are  capable  of  making  a  personal  application  of 
their  knowledge.  "  By  always  keeping  to  natural 
forms  in  drawing,  by  giving  them  in  turn  objects  of 
the  most  diverse  character  to  draw — i.e,^  leaves  of 
characteristic  appearance,  flowers,  ships,  articles  in 
ordinary  use,  tools — I   tried   to   avoid    routine    and 


2l6  EDUCATION    AND   HEREDITY. 

affectation.  Thanks  to  this  method,  more  than  thirty 
pupils  were  sufficiently  acquainted  with  the  funda- 
mentals of  the  art  to  seize  the  relations  of  the  lines  in 
faces,  and  in  every  kind  of  object,  and  to  reproduce 
those  objects  by  clear  and  accurate  lines.  The  per- 
fectly mechanical  art  of  linear  drawing  is  gradually 
and  as  it  were  spontaneously  developed."  Leonardo 
da  Vinci  firmly  believed  in  commencing  drawing  by 
the  study  of  those  forms  -offering  the  most  character 
and  beauty.  Now  these  forms  are  organic  and  not 
merely  geometrical. 

Music  should  become  the  popular  art  par  excellence^ 
the  relaxation  it  affords,  abstracting  us  from  our 
absorbing  material  cares,  develops  sympathy  and 
sociability.  To  listen  to  music  with  others  is  to 
make  all  hearts  beat  as  one  with  the  instruments  and 
voices.  A  concert  is  an  ideal  society  into  which  we 
are  transported,  in  which  harmony  and  good  under- 
standing are  realised,  in  which  life  becomes  a  divine 
sympathy.  The  French  are  beginning  to  appreciate 
this  view,  but  their  appreciation  has  not  as  yet  been 
carried  to  such  an  extent  as  to  inquire  how  far  the 
development  of  musical  taste — so  natural  to  all — is 
desirable,  how  far  it  is  important  to  gradually  inspire 
the  nation  with  a  love  for  great  and  beautiful  music — 
the  music  which  has  a  moralising  influence  because  its 
character  is  elevated.  Military  bands  and  bands  under 
the  control  of  central  authorities  have  an  educative 
mission,  which  ought  to  be  neither  forgotten  nor 
neglected.  In  addition,  music  is  one  of  the  few 
pleasures  that  all  classes  of  society  can  appreciate 
together ;  it  thus  becomes  a  bond  of  universal 
sympathy,  and  of  such  ties  there  are  far  too 
few. 


INTELLECTUAL   EDUCATION.  21/ 

No  doubt  the  plastic  arts  are  not  so  accessible  to 
our  youth  as  poetry  and  music.  There  is,  however, 
no  sufficient  reason  for  neglecting  the  artistic  educa- 
tion of  children,  even  in  the  matter  of  architecture. 
Where  ruins  are  not  at  hand,  the  plaster  casts  to  be 
found  in  museums,  the  prints  and  photographs  of 
which  so  many  and  so  various  specimens  are  now 
available,  appeal  to  the  eyes;  indeed,  with  a  little 
preparation  it  is  not  difficult  for  the  master  to  offer 
fitting  comments  on  them,  to  reason  out  both  the 
detail  and  the  combined  effect.  After  a  few  lessons 
of  this  kind,  the  child  may  have  a  sufficient  grasp  of 
this  character  of  sculpture  to  appreciate  Mercier's 
"  Quand  Meme,"  or  Barrias'  "  La  Defense  de  Paris." 


VI.  Intellectual  Education.  p*  ^/7 —  Z3  "^ 

After  moral,  civic,  and  aesthetic  teaching,  let  us 
examine  the  intellectual  instruction  given  m  our 
schools.  The  syllabus  of  primary  instruction  now 
comprises  reading,  writing,  the  French  language,  the 
elements  of  French  literature,  geography  (particu- 
larly France),  history  (particularly  that  of  France 
to  our  own  days),  a  few  general  ideas  on  law  and 
political  economy,  the  elements  of  natural  science, 
physics,  and  mathematics ;  their  application  to  agri- 
culture, hygiene,  and  the  industrial  arts;  manual 
training  and  the  use  of  the  tools  used  in  the  principal 
trades ;  the  elements  of  drawing,  modelling,  and 
music ;  gymnastics  and  military  exercises.  Children 
can  only  learn  and  understand  in  the  course  of  a  few 
years  so  many  things  at  once  by  a  premature  strain- 
ing of  the  delicate  springs  of  young  minds,  and  we 


21 8  EDUCATION    AND   HEREDITY. 

run  the  risk  of  weakening  at  one  stroke  both  moral 
and  intellectual  energy. 

The  literary,  grammatical,  and  historical  part  of  this 
syllabus  exposes  us  to  the  danger  of  what  the  English 
call  cramming.  Has  much  been  done  when  we  have 
succeeded  in  filling  their  heads  with  facts,  dates, 
words,  and  formulas  ?  Children  do  not  feel  the  want 
of  words  ;  it  is  ideas  that  are  required  ;  and  it  is  ideas 
we  must  give  them.  Unfortunately  erudition  invades 
everything — even  grammar — in  the  schools.  Let  us 
keep  for  secondary  education — or,  still  better,  for 
higher  instruction — historical  commentaries,  compara- 
tive grammar,  lexicology,  and  phonetics.  Do  not 
worry  children  and  masters  with  lofty  speculations 
with  which  they  have  no  concern.  Let  us  fear  lest, 
by  carrying  our  imitation  of  the  Germans  too  far,  we 
substitute  dull  and  dry  for  frivolous  pedantry. 

At  school  and  college  alike  scientific  instruction 
becomes  a  storing  up  of  facts  in  the  memory,  when 
its  essential  object  should  be  the  development  of  the 
observing  and  reasoning  powers,  and  its  secondary 
object  the  furnishing  of  the  student  with  useful  and 
practical  ideas,  in  quantity  no  more  than  can  be  after- 
wards remembered.  As  the  number  of  objects  of 
instruction  goes  on  increasing,  we  must  have  recourse 
to  different  methods  than  those  that  obtain  at  present; 
we  must  blend  lessons  and  recreation  as  often  as 
possible;  that  is  how  to  instruct  without  fatiguing. 
Hence  the  utility  of  school  walks.  Botany  is  best  of 
all,  because  the  work  entailed  is  in  the  open  air.  If 
St.  Louis  administered  justice  under  an  oak,  surely 
the  master  may  teach  under  an  oak  not  only  natural 
history,  but  the  history  of  France — not  forgetting  the 
Druids.    In  order  to  vary  the  subjects,  there  is  nothing 


INTELLECTUAL   EDUCATION.  219 

to  prevent  an  occasional  journey  to  a  mine,  a  factory, 
an  historic  building,  or  in  fact  to  anything  of  interest 
in  the  neighbourhood. 

The  account  given  by  Tolstoi  of  his  attempts  at 
teaching  history  is  full  of  humour.  He  began,  as 
usual,  with  ancient  history.  But  the  children  were 
not  interested  in  Sesostris,  the  Pyramids,  or  the 
Egyptians.  In  fact,  where  they  did  remember  and 
appreciate  some  incident,  such  as  the  story  of 
Semiramis,  it  was  accidentally,  not  because  they 
learned  anything  from  it,  but  because  it  was  cleverly 
told.  As  these  episodes  were  not  of  frequent  occur- 
rence, Tolstoi  tried  Russian  history,  and  began  "  that 
melancholy,  inartistic,  and  useless  History  of  Russia 
which  from  Tchimov  to  Vodozov  has  undergone  so 
many  transformations."  They  soon  got  confused 
with  the  Mstislavs,  the  Vriatschislavs,  and  the  Bole- 
slax.  The  effort  of  remembering  these  "  amazing  " 
names  brought  into  play  all  the  intellectual  power  of 
the  children  ;  what  these  individuals  had  done  was 
but  a  secondary  matter. — "  Here  he  is — what's  his 
name? — Barikav,  or  what  is  it?"  began  one  of  the 
children,  — "  marched  against  —  what's  his  name  ?  " 
—  "  Mouslav,  L^on  Nikolaievitch  ?  "  murmurs  a 
little  girl. — "Mstislav,"  I  answer. — "And  cut  the 
enemy  in  pieces,"  boldly  resumes  the  boy. — **  Stop, 
now  !  There  was  a  river.  And  the  son  who  massed 
his  men  and  cut  the  foe  in  pieces?  what  was 
his  name?" — "What  queer  history!"  says  Semka. 
"Mstislav,  Tchislav? — Oh,  what  is  the  good  of  all 
this  ? " — Those  who  had  a  good  memory  tried  to 
remember,  and,  to  tell  the  truth,  made  very  shrewd 
remarks,  for  fear  of  getting  their  ears  boxed.  But  all 
this  sort  of  thing  was  really  monstrous,  and  it  was 


220  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

pitiful  to  see  the  poor  children.  They  were  like 
"chickens  to  whom  sand  and  grain  are  alternately- 
thrown,  and  who  get  wild,  and  cluck,  and  struggle, 
and  are  ready  to  pluck  the  feathers  out  of  each 
other."  Read  Clotaire,  Lothaire,  Chilperic,  for 
Tchislav  and  Mstislav,  and  you  have  a  similar  scene 
in  a  French  school. 

The  taste  for  history  in  most  children,  says  Tolstoi, 
succeeds  the  taste  for  art.  He  made  several  further 
attempts  at  teaching  history,  beginning  with  our  own 
times,  and  found  the  results  very  satisfactory.  He 
took  the  Crimean  War,  the  reign  of  the  Emperor 
Nicholas,  and  the  story  of  1812.  The  Napoleonic 
war  was,  as  might  have  been  expected,  the  greatest 
success.  "  The  recollection  of  that  class  is  one  of  the 
most  memorable  in  my  life."  As  soon  as  TolstoT 
began  to  tell  the  children  how  the  theatre  of  the  war 
was  transferred  into  Russia,  from  every  side  arose 
exclamations  and  cries  of  the  keenest  interest. — 
"  What,  is  he  going  to  conquer  us  too  ?  " — "  Don't  be 
frightened;  Alexander  was  quite  his  match,"  said  a 
lad  who  knew  the  story  of  Alexander.  Tolsto'f  had 
to  dash  their  hopes  to  the  ground  ;  "  the  time  of 
triumph  had  not  yet  come."  Their  indignation  was 
aroused  when  they  heard  of  the  plan  to  marry 
Napoleon  to  the  Czar's  sister,  and  of  how  the  Czar 
met  Napoleon  on  the  bridge  as  his  equal. — "Listen 
to  that ! "  said  Petka,  with  a  threatening  gesture. 
—  "  Go  on  !  go  on  with  the  story  !  "  —  When 
Alexander  refused  to  submit,  that  is  to  say,  to 
declare  war,  general  approbation  was  expressed. 
When  Napoleon  with  twelve  nations  marched  on 
Russia,  arousing  Germany  and  Poland  against  us,  the 
children  were  overwhelmed  with  grief 


INTELLECTUAL   EDUCATION.  221 

I  had  a  German  friend  in  the  room.  "  Ah !  you 
were  against  us  too  ? "  cries  Petka  (our  best  story- 
teller). "  Go  on !  shut  up ! "  cried  the  rest.  The 
retreat  of  the  troops  was  a  cruel  blow  to  the  listeners, 
and  from  all  sides  arose  how?  and  why?  They 
abused  Kutiisof  and  Barklay.  "  What  a  coward 
Kutiisof  was  ! "  "  You  wait ! "  said  another.  "  But 
why  did  he  retreat?"  asked  a  third.  When  they 
came  to  the  battle  of  Borodino,  and  Tolstoi  was 
obliged  to  tell  them  that  after  all  the  Russians  did 
not  conquer,  he  could  not  help  pitying  them ;  "  it  was 
obvious  that  I  had  given  them  a  terrible  shock." 
"  Well,  if  we  did  not  beat  them,  neither  did  they 
beat  us."  When  Napoleon  reached  Moscow  and 
demanded  the  keys  and  homage,  they  raised  a  loud 
cry  of  disgust.  Of  course  the  burning  of  Moscow 
caused  great  satisfaction. 

Finally,  there  came  the  triumph,  —  then  the 
retreat.  —  "  As  soon  as  Napoleon  left  Moscow, 
Kutiisof  began  to  follow  him  and  attack  him,"  said 
Tolstoif.  "  He  let  him  see  what  for,"  said  Petka,  who, 
all  of  a  glow,  was  sitting  by  the  Count,  and  in  his 
excitement  was  twisting  his  dirty  little  fingers.  At 
Petka's  words  the  whole  class  was  seized  with  a 
paroxysm  of  proud  enthusiasm.  One  little  fellow 
was  nearly  crushed,  and  they  never  noticed  it. — 
"  That's  right ! — That's  how  he  got  the  keys  !  " — 
Tolstoi*  went  on  to  tell  how  the  Russians  chased  the 
French  ;  the  boys  were  greatly  distressed  to  hear  of 
the  delay  on  the  Beresina,  the  laggard  was  treated 
with  contempt,  and  Petka  shouted  :  "  I  would  have 
shot  him  dead  for  being  late!" — "Then  came  pity. 
for  the  frozen  Frenchmen.  Soon  the  border  was 
crossed,  and    the   Germans,  who  had   been    fighting 


222  EDUCATION    AND   HEREDITY. 

against  us  so  far,  now  threw  themselves  at  our 
feet." 

Again  the  children  remember  the  German  present 
in  the  room.  "That's  how  you  behaved,  was  it? 
First  you  were  against  us,  and  then  when  you  found 
us  the  stronger,  you  turned  round  !  "  And  suddenly 
all  got  up  and  began  to  shout  "ouf!"  so  that  they 
could  have  been  heard  down  the  street. 

When  they  had  calmed  down,  Tolstoi'  went  on,  and 
told  them  how  the  Russians  escorted  Napoleon  to 
Paris,  how  they  set  the  rightful  king  on  the  throne, 
how  they  enjoyed  their  triumphs  and  feasted.  But 
the  memory  of  the  Crimean  War  spoiled  their 
pleasure.  "'Just  wait  till  Fm  grown  up;  I'll  pay 
them  back!'  cried  Petka.  If  the  allied  armies  had  at 
that  moment  stormed  the  Shevardinsky  redoubt  or 
the  Malakof  Tower,  we  should  have  driven  them 
back."  It  was  already  late  when  Tolstoi  finished. 
As  a  general  rule,  children  are  in  bed  asleep  by  this 
time.  But  no  one  was  sleepy.  As  Tolstoi  rose,  to 
the  general  amazement,  out  crept  Taraska  from 
under  the  arm-chair,  and  looked  at  him  with  eager, 
but  at  the  same  time  serious  face.  "  How  did  you 
get  under  there  ? "  "  He  has  been  there  from  the 
first ! "  said  some  one.  There  was  no  need  to  ask 
him  if  he  understood  ;  it  was  evident  from  his  face. 
"  What  can  you  tell  us  about  it  ?  "  "  I  ?  I  can  tell  it 
all.  I  am  going  to  tell  about  it  when  I  get  home." 
"  And  I."  "  And  I  too."  "  Won't  it  be  too  long  ?  " 
"  No,  indeed  1 "  And  off  they  rushed  downstairs,  one 
vowing  to  pay  the  French  out,  another  abusing  the 
German,  another  repeating  how  Kutiisof  had  taken 
his  revenge. 

"  *  You  told  the  story  solely  from  the  Russian  point 


INTELLECTUAL   EDUCATION.  223 

of  View/  said  my  German  friend,  whom  the  boys  had 
hooted  that  evening.  '  You  should  hear  that  story 
told  among  us  Germans.  You  told  them  nothing 
about  the  battles  for  German  liberty.'  I  agreed  that 
my  narrative  was  not  a  history,  but  a  tale  adapted  for 
the  purpose  of  kindling  national  sentiment." 

Tolstoi*  eventually  was  convinced  that,  as  far  as 
history  is  concerned,  persons  and  events  interest  the 
scholars  in  proportion  to  their  dramatic  character,  and 
not  in  proportion  to  their  historic  significance — that  is 
to  say,  in  proportion  to  the  artistic  nature  of  the 
historian's  work,  or  more  often  because  of  their  con- 
nection with  popular  tradition.  Romulus  and  Remus 
interested  them,  not  because  the  two  brothers  founded 
the  most  powerful  empire  in  the  world,  but  because 
the  story  was  pretty,  mysterious,  and  attractive — the 
wolf  that  suckled  them  !  etc.  The  story  of  Gracchus 
is  interesting  because  it  is  as  dramatic  as  the  story  of 
Pope  Gregory  VII.  and  the  humiliated  Emperor.  "  In 
fact,  in  the  child,  or  in  any  one  whose  experience  is 
incomplete,  there  is  no  taste  for  history  in  itself ;  it  is 
only  a  taste  for  something  artistic." 

According  to  Tolstoi*,  the  old  superstition  has  passed 
away,  that  there  is  nothing  more  terrible  than  for 
young  people  to  grow  up  without  learning  who  were 
Jaroslav  and  Otho,  or  that  there  is  such  a  province  as 
Estremadura.  To  inspire  the  young  with  a  desire  to 
know  how  the  human  race  lives,  has  lived,  has  been 
transformed  and  developed  in  different  parts  of  the 
earth,  to  know  the  eternal  laws  of  evolution,  to 
understand  natural  phenomena,  to  know  how  the 
human  race  is  distributed  over  the  surface  of  the 
earth, — that  is  quite  another  thing.  "  Perhaps,"  says 
Tolstof,  "  it  is  useful  to  inspire  such  desires,  but  I  do 


224  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

not  think  Thiers,  or  Segur,  or  Obodovski,  will  help 
us  much.  For  this  purpose  two  elements  are  neces- 
sary— sentiments  at  once  patriotic  and  artistic." 

Patriotism,  in  fact,  should  be  the  soul  of  history  ; 
history  must  be  used  as  a  basis  for  moral  instruction  ; 
but  when  we  have  to  deal  with  morality,  respect  for 
truth  is  one  of  the  first  conditions.  Is  there  really  any 
need,  as  Tolstoi  imagines,  to  alter  history  to  make  it 
interesting  ?  If  children  like  stories,  it  is  equally  true 
that  they  prefer  true  stories.  To  turn  history  into 
a  series  of  dramas  is  to  entirely  misconceive  the 
grandeur  and  unity  of  its  character,  to  misplace  its 
interest,  to  parcel  it  out,  if  I  may  say  so,  in  order 
to  divide  it  among  a  few  heroes,  who,  in  fact,  to 
deserve  this  interest  will  have  to  satisfy  all  the  rules 
of  dramatic  art. 

No!  what  we  call  history  is  not  the  history  of  a 
few  men,  but  of  a  whole  race,  of  whole  races  ;  and 
when  the  race  is  the  hero,  the  hero  is  always  in 
evidence,  and  the  interest  ought  not  to  fail  on  each 
page  with  the  fall  of  this  or  that  given  personage. 
Once  more,  the  interest  of  history  is  entirely  in  the 
ideas,  sentiments,  and  efforts  of  mankind,  not  of  a  few 
men  ;  the  poetry  of  history  is  the  poetry  of  life  in 
general,  not  of  a  few  lives.  Even  if  children  are  sad- 
dened by  hearing  of  defeats  where  they  hoped  for 
victories,  ought  we  therefore  to  regret  that  life,  which  it 
is  not  in  our  power  to  change  for  them,  should  appear 
to  them  in  its  reality  ?  The  sole  object  of  considera- 
tion should  be  the  age  of  the  children. 

As  long  as  children  are  very  young,  it  is  clear  that 
they  can  only  dip  into  the  subject,  and  cannot  read  it 
in  the  proper  sense  of  the  word ;  history  to  them  will 
be  a  simple  succession  of  images  to  which  will  be 


INTELLECTUAL   EDUCATION.  22$ 

attached  whatever  events  are  within  their  mental 
grasp.  But  in  the  study  of  history,  however  old  the 
child  may  be,  there  can  be  no  question  of  the  utter 
inutility  of  fastidious  nomenclature,  of  trivial  facts — 
arbitrary  in  their  causes,  and  not  followed  out  in  their 
consequences.  As  M.  Lavisse  puts  it,  "  What  trace  is 
left  after  a  few  years  have  elapsed  ?  "  Vague  recollec- 
tions are  vaguer  still  ;  the  few  well-known  features  of 
historic  figures  are  effaced ;  the  divisions  of  the  chrono- 
logical framework  are  confused ; "  Clovis,  Charlemagne, 
St.  Louis,  Henry  IV.,  fall  from  their  places,  as  if  they 
were  portraits  suspended  from  a  loosened  nail  on  a 
plaster  wall."  We  must  therefore  choose  our  facts 
more  wisely ;  we  must  drop  everything  that  is  useless 
and  trivial ;  we  must  throw  all  the  light  on  those  of 
importance ;  we  must  envolve  the  series  so  that  the 
pupil  may  know  how  France  has  lived.  The  history 
of  manners  and  institutions  cannot  be  taught  to  the 
young  by  abstract  terms,  phrases,  and  theories  ;  but, 
using  the  elementary  ideas  every  child  possesses, 
and  words  with  which  they  are  familiar,  it  is 
possible  to  describe,  in  simple  terms,  the  con- 
dition of  individuals  and  races.^     "  Who  is  there  in 

^  M.  Lavisse  was  in  a  primary  school  in  Paris  when  a  young  master  was 
beginning  a  lesson  on  the  feudal  system.  The  young  fellow  did  not  under- 
stand his  work,  for  he  talked  about  hereditary  offices  and  benefices,  and 
the  eight-year-old  children  he  was  addressing  were  naturally  absolutely 
indifferent.  The  head  of  the  school  enters,  interrupts  the  master,  and 
addresses  the  whole  class.  **  Has  any  one  ever  seen  a  feudal  castle  ?  " 
No  answer.  Then  the  master  asks  a  child  who  comes  from  the  faubourg 
St.  Antoine,  "  Have  you  never  been  to  Vincennes?"  **  Yes,  sir."  **  Well, 
then,  you  have  seen  a  feudal  castle."  Here  is  a  point  of  departure 
found  in  the  present.  **  What  is  this  castle  like?  "  Several  answer  at 
once.  The  master  takes  one  of  them  to  the  blackboard  ;  the  child 
draws  a  rude  sketch,  which  the  master  corrects.  He  also  sketches  in 
the  battlements.     "  What  are  those  ?  "     No  one  knew.     He  explains, 

IS 


226  EDUCATION   AND  HEREDITY. 

France  to  teach  us  what  constitutes  France?"  asks 
M.  Lavisse.  It  is  not  the  family,  for  in  the  family  is 
neither  authority,  discipline,  nor  moral  teaching  ;  nor 
is  it  society,  for  in  society  the  mention  of  civic  duties 

**  Now  what  use  were  they  ?  "  He  makes  them  guess  that  they  were 
for  defence.  "  What  used  they  to  fight  with ? — with  guns?"  Most  of 
the  children  answer,  "  No,  sir  !  "  **  Well,  what  did  they  fight  with?  " 
A  budding  savant  at  the  end  of  the  class  answers,  "  With  bows." 
"What  is  a  bow?"  Ten  answer  at  once,  "  A  cross-bow."  The 
master  smiles,  and  explains  the  difference.  Then  he  explains  the 
difficulty  of  taking  a  castle,  whose  walls  were  broad  and  high,  by 
the  bows,  and  even  by  the  machines  of  those  days,  and  pro- 
ceeds: —  "When  you  are  workmen,  if  you  are  good  workmen, 
you  will  come  across  the  ruins  of  castles  when  you  travel  about  for 
your  pleasure  or  for  work."  He  names  Montlebery  and  other  ruins 
near  Paris.  **  In  each  castle  there  lived  a  lord.  Now  what  did  all 
those  lords  do?  "  "They  fought."  Then  the  master  depicts  the  feudal 
wars,  the  knights  on  horseback  and  clad  in  their  armour,  and  not  a 
child  loses  a  single  word  of  what  he  is  saying.  "  But  they  could  not 
take  a  castle  with  lances  and  cuirasses.  So  the  war  was  never  over. 
Who  suffered  most  of  all  during  these  wars  ?  Those  who  had  no  castles 
— the  peasants  who  in  those  days  worked  for  the  lord.  A  cottage 
belonging  to  the  peasants  of  a  lord  is  burned  by  his  neighbour.  'Ah !  you 
burn  my  cottages;  I  will  burn  yours,'  says  the  lord  who  is  thus  attacked. 
He  did  burn  them,  and  not  only  the  cottages  but  the  crops.  And  what 
happens  when  they  burn  the  crops?  "  "  There  is  a  famine."  "  And 
can  they  live  without  food?  "  The  whole  class :  "  No,  sir  !  "  "  Then 
a  remedy  had  to  be  found,  and  the  remedy  was  called  'The  Truce  of 
God.'"  Then  he  comments  on  it: — "A  curious  law  it  was.  Just 
think  !  They  said  to  the  brigands,  *  From  Saturday  evening  to 
Wednesday  morning  you  must  be  quiet,  but  the  rest  of  the  time  don't 
trouble  yourselves— fight,  burn,  pillage,  and  slay,  as  much  as  ever  you 
like  ! '  Were  they  mad  in  those  days?"  A  voice  :  "Yes,  indeed." 
"  No,  they  were  not  mad.  Now  listen  attentively.  There  are  idle  boys 
here.  I  do  all  I  can  to  make  them  work  the  whole  week,  but  I  would 
be  fairly  content  if  I  saw  them  working  up  to  Wednesday.  The  Church 
would  have  been  pleased  if  they  had  not  fought  at  all,  but  as  she  could 
not  prevail  on  the  lords  to  give  fighting  up  altogether,  she  tried  to  keep 
the  great  lords  at  peace  for  half  the  week.  That  was  always  something 
gained.  But  the  Church  did  not  succeed.  It  was  a  case  of  force  against 
force,  and  the  king  had  to  bring  these  people  to  reason."  Then  the 
master  explained  how  the  lords  were  not  all  of  equal  rank,  that  the  lord 


INTELLECTUAL  EDUCATION.  227 

calls  forth  a  jest.  The  school  must  tell  the  French 
what  France  is.  The  final  object  of  instruction  in 
history  will  be  to  instil  into  the  hearts  of  every  child  in 
every  school  a  stronger  sentiment  than  "  the  frivolous 

of  the  castle  had  a  still  higher  and  more  powerful  lord  above  him,  living 
in  another  castle.  He  proceeds  to  give  a  pretty  accurate  idea  of  the 
feudal  scale,  and  at  the  head  of  all  he  places  the  king.  "  When  people 
fight  together,  who  stops  them  ?  "  Answer  :  "  The  police."  **  Well, 
the  king  was  a  policeman.  What  is  done  with  a  man  who  fights  and 
kills  some  one?"  "He  is  tried  before  a  judge."  "Well,  the  king 
was  a  judge.  Can  the  prisoner  escape  the  police  and  the  judge  ?  "  **  No, 
sir."  **  Well,  the  kings  of  old  were  as  useful  to  France  as  the  police 
and  the  judges  are  now.  Afterwards  the  kings  behaved  badly,  but  at 
first  they  did  good.  Did  I  say  as  useful  as  the  judges  nowadays? 
Much  more  useful,  for  there  were  more  brigands  then  than  now. 
Those  lords  were  fierce  fellows,  were  they  not?  "  The  class  :  "  Yes, 
sir."  **  And  the  people,  were  they  any  better?  "  Answer,  unanimous, 
with  a  tone  of  conviction  :  '*  Yes,  sir."  **  Ah,  boys  !  they  were  not. 
When  they  were  aroused,  they  were  terrible  fellows.  They,  as  well  as 
the  lords,  pillaged,  burned,  and  killed  ;  they  killed  women  and  children. 
But  remember  they  didn't  know  the  difference  between  good  and  bad. 
They  had  never  been  taught  how  to  read." 

"  With  these  words,  which  are  only  half  true,  ended,"  says  M.  Lavisse, 
**a  lesson  lasting  barely  half-an-hour.  Let  us  train  masters  such  as 
this.  Put  into  their  hands  books  in  which  may  be  found,  laid  down  in 
simple  terms,  the  main  facts  of  the  history  of  civilisation.  Will  they 
not  become  capable  of  teaching  children  the  history  of  France?  " 

**  It  is  often  said,  neglect  the  earlier  pages  of  history.  Of  what  im- 
portance are  the  Merovingians,  the  Carlovingians,  or  even  the  Capets  ? 
Our  history  is  barely  a  century  old.  Begin  with  our  own  times."  '*  A 
pretty  way  of  forming  settled  and  solid  minds,"  remarks  M.  Lavisse, 
**  to  imprison  them  in  an  age  of  burning  struggles,  when  needs  had  to 
be  satisfied  and  hatred  glutted  without  delay  !  Truly,  a  prudent 
method  to  start  with  the  French  Revolution  instead  of  ending  with  it, 
of  making  children  sympathise  with  that  unique,  even  though  legitimate, 
spectacle  of  rebellion,  of  making  them  believe  that  every  good  French- 
man ought  to  take  the  Tuileries  at  least  once  in  his  life,  twice  if  possible, 
and  that  if  the  Tuileries  are  destroyed  he  may  long  some  day  to  take  by 
assault  the  Palais- Bourbon  or  the  i^lysee,  so  as  to  deserve  the  name  of 
patriot  !  Not  teach  the  past  !  The  poetry  of  the  past  is  a  necessity  of 
our  present  existence."  And  I  may  add  that  the  lessons  of  the  past  are 
of  equal  value  with  its  poetry.     Without  the  past,  the  present  is  inex- 


228  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

and  fragile  vanity  "  which  is  unbearable  in  prosperity, 
and  which,  in  the  face  of  national  disaster,  collapses 
and  gives  place  to  despair,  to  self-disparagement,  to 
admiration  of  the  foreigner,  and  to  self-contempt. 


VII. 

The  part  played  by  the  schoolmaster  and  by 
geography  in  the  victories  of  the  Germans  in  Austria 
and  in  France  has  been  much  overrated.  Though 
the  discipline  of  the  German  troops  was  exemplary, 
considerable  reduction  must  be  made  in  the  estimate 
generally  held  as  to  the  education  of  the  soldiers. 
Besides,  reading,  writing,  and  map-lore  are  not 
enough  of  themselves  to  win  battles.  M.  Hoenig, 
the  author  of  a  book  entitled,  TraM  sur  la  discipline 
au  point  de  vue  de  Varmee^  de  VEtat^  et  du  peuple^  tells 
us  that  the  recruits  enrolled  during  the  campaign  had 
forgotten  most  of  what  they  had  learned  at  school. 
For  some  years  the  knowledge  of  these  recruits  was 
tested  by  examination.  Now,  the  simplest  facts  of 
their  own  country  were  often  unknown  to  these 
young  men  when  they  joined  the  regiment.  "We 
collected  a  number  of  questions  on  the  country  of 
their  birth.  The  answers  were  incredible.  After 
the  war  of  1870-71,  many  did  not  even  know  the 
name  of  the  Emperor  of  Germany."  This  does  not 
prevent  us  from   believing  that  the  simple  German 

plicable,  nor  can  it  take  its  true  place  in  the  chain  of  events ;  we  ought 
to  know  that  the  causes  which  will  make  the  future  already  exist,  not 
merely  in  the  present,  but  also  in  the  past,  where  we  can — to  a  certain 
extent — ^judge  of  them  in  action.  If  there  is  any  way  of  avoiding  the 
mistakes  of  the  past,  surely  it  is  familiarity  with  what  happened  in  the 
past. 


INTELLECTUAL  EDUCATION.  229 

soldiers  knew  enough  geography  to  find  their  way 
about  the  roads  of  the  invaded  territory.  Geography 
in  these  days  is  no  longer  geography ;  it  is,  as 
has  been  remarked,  encyclopaedic  —  the  universal 
science:  astronomy  and  geology;  mineralogy,  botany, 
zoology,  physics,  history,  and  political  economy ; 
anthropology,  mythology,  sociology ;  it  is  linguistics 
and  phonetics ;  the  history  of  races  and  creeds,  of 
agriculture,  of  industry,  etc.,  etc.  Estimated  in 
this  way,  geography  must  be  the  most  useful  of 
subjects. 

Tolstoi*  gives  us  an  account  of  his  perplexities  on 
the  subject  of  geography.  After  having  explained 
cold  and  warmth,  he  came  to  grief  when  he  tried  to 
explain  winter  and  summer.  He  repeated  his  ex- 
planation, and  with  the  aid  of  a  candle  and  a  ball  he 
made  himself,  "as  far  as  he  could  judge,"  perfectly 
intelligible.  They  listened  with  much  attention  and 
interest ;  what  took  their  fancy  most  was  that  they 
could  learn  what  their  parents  refused  to  believe, 
and  would  be  able  to  brag  of  their  wisdom.  After 
Tolstoi  had  finished,  the  sceptical  Semka,  the  most 
intelligent  of  the  boys,  asked  :  "  But  if  the  earth 
moves  as  you  say,  how  is  our  isba  always  in  the 
same  spot  ?  It  ought  to  change  its  position  ! "  Tolstoi 
thought  to  himself:  "If  my  explanation  is  a 
thousand  yards  beyond  the  grasp  of  the  most 
intelligent  of  the  boys,  what  can  the  slower  children 
understand  of  it?"  He  began  again,  explained,  drew 
illustrations,  quoted  all  the  proofs  of  the  roundness  of 
the  earth — the  circumnavigation  of  the  globe,  the 
mast  of  a  vessel  appearing  before  the  hull ;  and  other 
proofs  ;  then  fondly  nursing  the  idea  that  they  under- 
stood at  last,  he  made  them  write  it  all  out     They 


230  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

all  wrote  : — "  The  earth  is  like  a  ball ; "  then  the  first, 
and  then  the  second  proof.  "The  third  proof  they 
had  forgotten,  and  they  came  and  asked  me  what  it 
was.  It  was  evident  that  their  main  effort  was  to 
remember  the  proofs.  Not  once  only,  but  ten,  a 
hundred  times,  I  renew  my  explanations,  but  always 
without  success.  In  an  examination  all  the  children 
would  answer,  and  will  now  answer,  satisfactorily 
enough,  but  I  do  not  think  they  really  understand  ; 
and  when  I  remember  that  I  was  thirty  before  I 
understood  it  myself,  I  readily  make  allowance  for 
them.  Just  as  in  my  own  case,  they  believe  on  the 
word  of  another  that  the  earth  is  round,  etc.,  but  they 
do  not  understand  it.  Once  I  understood  less  than 
they  did,  for  in  my  childhood  my  nurse  informed  me 
that  at  the  end  of  the  world  the  earth  and  sky  met, 
and  that  there  the  babas  wash  their  clothes  and  hang 
them  out  on  the  sky  to  dry.  Our  pupils  are  now 
grown  up,  but  even  at  the  present  moment  ideas, 
absolutely  opposite  to  those  I  tried  to  inculcate,  still 
persist  in  their  minds.  It  will  take  a  long  time  yet 
to  efface  these  explanations  and  the  image  they  form 
of  the  universe,  before  they  can  understand."  To 
this  the  answer  is,  that  we  must  not  flatter  ourselves 
that  we  are  ever  perfectly  understood  by  the  young 
when  we  are  treating  of  matters  which,  after  all,  are 
really  beyond  their  grasp.  The  faculty  of  understand- 
ing, with  all  other  faculties,  takes  time  to  develop; 
the  essential  step  is  therefore  the  first,  the  only  step 
which  costs  any  effort,  and  it  is  always  good  to 
have  that  step  over.  To  postpone  till  later  what 
cannot  be  entirely  understood  to-day  is  a  bad  plan ; 
later  there  will  be  so  much  to  learn,  and  above  all  it 
must  be  prepared  for.     We  must  take  the  mind  va 


INTELLECTUAL   EDUCATION.  23 1 

hand  at  an  early  period  if  we  wish  to  bend  it  to  a 
kind  of  gymnastics. 

Just  as  in  history  the  idea  is  to  begin  at  the  end, 
so  in  geography  the  idea  has  gradually  taken  root 
and  grown  that  we  must  begin  with  the  school  and 
the  village.  The  experiment  has  been  made  in 
Germany.  Tolstoif,  discouraged  by  his  attempts  to 
teach  ordinary  geography,  began  with  the  class-room, 
the  house,  the  village.  "  As  in  the  case  of  drawing 
plans,  these  exercises  are  not  useless ;  but  to  know 
what  comes  after  our  village  scarcely  interests  them  at 
all,  because  they  all  know  it  is  Tdiatinkis,  and  they 
are  not  at  all  interested  in  what  comes  after  T^liatinkis, 
because  no  doubt  it  is  a  village  just  like  T^liatinkis, 
and  Teliatinkis  with  its  fields  does  not  interest 
them  in  the  least.  I  tried  giving  them  centres  of 
reference,  such  as  Moscow  and  Kief;  but  they  got  so 
muddled  that  it  came  to  simply  learning  by  heart. 
I  tried  map-drawing,  which  amused  them  and  helped 
the  memory.  Then  the  question  again  occurred — 
why  should  we  help  the  memory  ?  I  tried  once  more 
stories  of  life  in  the  polar  and  equatorial  regions;  they 
listened  with  pleasure,  and  were  able  to  repeat  them 
all  afterwards,  except  the  geographical  part.  In  fact, 
drawing  a  plan  of  the  village  was  drawing  plans,  not 
geography ;  map-drawing  was  drawing  maps,  not 
geography ;  stories  of  animals,  forests,  towns,  ice,  etc., 
were  stories,  and  not  geography.  Geography  was 
only  what  they  learned  by  heart."  The  children, 
Tolsto'f  adds,  remember  the  story,  but  rarely  retain  the 
name  and  position  on  the  map  of  the  district  in  which 
the  story  is  laid ;  events  are  all  that  are  generally 
remembered.  "  When  Mitrofanouchka  studies  geo- 
graphy, his  mother  says  to  him  :  *  What  is  the  use  of 


232  EDUCATION    AND   HEREDITY. 

learning  all  those  countries?  The  coachman  will 
take  you  wherever  you  want  to  go.' "  Tolsto'f  thinks 
that  nothing  more  damning  has  ever  been  alleged 
against  geography,  and  that  all  the  scientists  in  the 
world  cannot  answer  this  invincible  argument.  "  I 
speak  very  seriously.  What  is  the  good  of  knowing 
the  precise  position  of  Barcelona,  when  I  have  reached 
the  age  of  thirty-three,  and  have  never  felt  the  want 
of  that  information  ?  A  description  of  Barcelona, 
it  seems  to  me,  could  not  develop  any  intellectual 
faculties,  be  it  ever  so  picturesque.  What  is  the  use 
of  Semka  or  Fedka  learning  the  Marline  canal  and  its 
source,  if,  as  far  as  they  can  judge,  they  will  never  be 
anywhere  near  it  ?  And  even  if  Semka  should  have 
to  go  there,  it  does  not  matter  a  straw  whether  he  has 
or  has  not  learned  about  it  before ;  he  will  learn  its 
navigation  by  practice,  and  will  learn  it  well." 

It  may  be  asked  how  far  it  is  wise  to  lay  stress 
throughout  many  lessons  on  the  school  and  the  village. 
It  is  never  a  good  thing  to  make  men  or  the  world 
any  smaller,  even  in  the  child  mind.  The  moment 
the  school,  the  village,  and  the  children  themselves 
become  the  centre  of  interest,  the  children  will  con- 
sider it  perfectly  useless  to  trouble  their  heads  about 
other  lands  which  do  not  affect  them  directly.  It 
may  be  answered  that  these  preliminary  and  exclusive 
lessons  are  only  a  starting-point ;  that  may  be  so  for 
you ;  but  children,  whose  minds  are  as  small  as  their 
legs,  become  prone,  if  we  do  not  take  care,  to  limit 
the  world  to  their  immediate  horizon,  and  to  make  a 
universe  of  the  little  world  within  their  sight  It 
would  be  far  safer  to  make  use  of  the  love  for  the 
marvellous  by  which  children  are  possessed,  to  interest 
them   in   distant   countries.      Since  they   so^  readily 


INTELLECTUAL   EDUCATION.  233 

remember  stories  of  animals,  forests,  etc.,  it  is  not 
impossible,  by  frequent  repetition,  to  connect  the 
events  with  geographical  names.  A  child's  memory 
is  a  good  servant,  always  ready  for  work,  provided 
the  effort  be  not  of  long  duration.  I  have  known 
a  little  boy  of  three  and  a  half  to  be  keenly  interested 
in  America,  and  to  remember  the  name  perfectly, 
because  he  had  been  told  that  the  sun  shone  there  in 
our  night,  so  that  the  children  in  that  extraordinary 
country  were  getting  ready  for  play  when  he  was 
thinking  of  going  to  sleep. 

I  may  add  that  it  is  not  a  matter  of  such  indifference 
as  Tolstoi'  supposes  to  absolutely  ignore  countries  the 
children  are  never  likely  to  see.  It  is  a  well-known  fact 
that  as  we  travel  our  minds  expand,  therefore  we  ought, 
at  least,  to  get  the  children  to  lend  a  ready  ear  to  all 
sorts  of  stories  about  different  countries  and  their 
inhabitants.  Besides,  Tolstoi  later  on  is  forced  to 
confess  that  reading  travels  must  necessarily  be  use- 
ful. Finally — perhaps  especially — it  is  wise  to  intro- 
duce method  into  education,  so  that  we  may  control 
and  direct  the  child's  powers,  and  prevent  them 
wandering  by  the  way.  Sequence  in  idea  and  effort 
by  no  means  implies  prosiness.  Only  do  not  forget 
that  by  discussing  the  interest  of  a  thing  we  ipso 
facto  almost  refuse  to  acknowledge  that  it  has 
interest ;  and  that,  on  the  other  hand,  a  kind  of  official 
interest  is  attached  to  all  work  done  without  an 
arriere-pensee, — an  interest  that  the  children  will  have 
for  good  or  evil  at  their  service,  if  they  are  not  left  sole 
judges  of  what  is  or  is  not  useful,  if  they  are  not  left 
of  their  own  will  to  abandon  or  pursue  the  work  they 
have  undertaken  to  do. 

We  certainly  cannot  take  Tolstoi  as  our  guide,  for 


234  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

he  is  a  poet  in  the  pursuit  of  an  Utopian  method  of 
education — a  method  without  rules  or  discipline.  But 
there  is  a  measure  of  truth  in  his  psychological  obser- 
vations on  geography.  Geography  is  a  pretext  for 
learning  a  multitude  of  subjects  ;  it  is  in  itself  an 
unpleasing  subject,  and  ought  to  be  reduced  to  what 
is  absolutely  necessary.  To  adopt  Tolstoi's  plan,  with 
less  dilettante  pupils,  we  would  start  from  the  geo- 
graphy of  the  district,  and  proceed  to  the  description 
of  more  and  more  remote  countries,  telling  how  they 
were  discovered,  the  manners  and  customs  of  their 
inhabitants,  and  the  productions  of  the  soil.  In  a 
word,  what  must  be  taught  by  the  aid  of  geography 
is  human,  national,  and  international  life. 

In  conclusion,  whatever  form  of  science  has  to  be 
taught  in  school,  teaching  must  never  be  a  matter  of 
memory,  erudition,  or  pure  knowledge,  but  rather  of 
intellectual,  moral,  and  civic  training.  To  maintain 
the  balance  between  the  various  branches  of  instruc- 
tion, to  take  the  essential  part  of  each,  and  to  reject 
without  hesitation  every  intrusive  detail, — that  is  the 
task  of  education.  Its  object,  and  its  only  object,  is 
mental  development,  not  in  a  single  direction,  but  in 
all  directions ;  to  lead  the  mind,  in  the  most  general 
possible  way,  to  the  crest  of  contemporary  science, 
and  finally  to  "launch  it  upon  the  waves."  In  the 
sequel,  from  whatever  quarter  the*  wind  may  blow, 
any  direction  will  be  favourable  to  the  mind  thus 
prepared. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

SECONDARY  AND  HIGHER  EDUCATION. 

I.  Object  of  a  Classical  Education, — Ancient  and  modern  languages 
as  means  of  education — Method  in  the  study  of  literature — Necessity 
for  giving  the  study  of  literature  a  more  philosophic  character. 

II.  History, 

III.  ^V^V;/^^.— Its  advantages  and  drawbacks— Methods  of  scientific 
instruction. 

IV.  Technical  Instruction, 

V.  Competition  and  Examinations, 

VI.  Higher  Education, 

VII.  The  Great  Schools,— The  Ecole  Polytechnique. 


I.  Object  of  a  Classical  Education, 

A  secondary  classical  education  should  develop  the 
faculties  of  young  people  harmoniously  and  for  their 
own  sake.  It  employs  for  this  purpose  the  great 
truths,  the  beauties  of  poetry  and  eloquence — in  fact, 
that  part  of  morality  and  goodness  which  is  inherent 
in  the  works  of  the  best  moralists,  philosophers,  poets, 
and  men  of  letters.  Two  conditions  are  necessary — 
models  and  practice.  The  models  should  be  really 
classical — i,e,^  displaying  literary  beauties  in  all  their 
purity  and  perfect  harmony.  It  is  not  a  question  of 
ascertaining  where  the  most  genius  lies,  but  where  we 
shall  find  most  of  those  qualities  that  we  can  imitate, 
and  the  fewest  of  those  faults  we  can  avoid.  We  do 
not  hope  to  implant  genius  in  children;  give  them 


236  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

taste,  a  love  for  the  beautiful,  a  critical  sense,  and  at 
the  same  time  a  certain  ability  to  think,  and  a  talent 
for  composition  and  style.  Now,  the  models  in 
question  are  all  given.  In  regard  to  them  there  is 
no  dispute:  if  we  can  teach  enough  Greek  and  Latin 
to  make  children  study  the  masterpieces  of  antiquity, 
no  one  will  deny  that  they  will  have  the  best  literary 
education,  just  as  a  study  of  Greek  sculpture  or 
Italian  painting  is  the  best  education  for  the  plastic 
arts. 

Greco-Latin  antiquity  has  one  quality  of  supreme 
importance  from  the  pedagogic  point  of  view :  it  is 
not  romantic.  There  is  therefore  no  risk  of  develop- 
ing in  the  young  a  wandering  imagination,  sometimes 
straying  in  pursuit  of  chimeras,  sometimes  lost  in  idle 
reveries ;  there  is  no  longer  a  risk  of  developing  a  more 
or  less  factitious  sentimentality.  Transporting  the 
young  into  an  environment  distant  and  different  from 
our  own,  it  prevents  them  from  becoming  prematurely 
familiar  with  that  side  of  modern  literature  which  is 
too  impassioned  and  too  exciting.  At  this  distance 
of  time  that  unrest  is  gone,  all  is  reduced  to  a  beauty 
more  intellectual  than  emotional.  Besides,  reason  is 
the  leading  characteristic  of  ancient,  and  especially 
Roman,  literature,  and  children  want  reason,  good 
sense,  and  good  taste  more  than  anything  else. 

Objection  has  been  taken  to  the  difficulty  of  the 
classics  and  the  length  of  time  devoted  to  them,  and 
it  has  been  proposed  to  substitute  modern  languages 
in  their  place.  The  answer  is — that  in  practice  the 
teaching  of  modern  languages  would  inevitably  tend 
towards  practical  expediency ;  its  main  object  would 
eventually  be  to  learn  to  speak  foreign  languages,  for 
they  irresistibly  present  an  aspect  of  immediate  and 


OBJECT   OF    A   CLASSICAL   EDUCATION.  237 

obvious  Utility.  Besides,  the  great  English  and  German 
classics  do  not  possess  the  classical  qualities  in  a  suffi- 
cient degree.  Modern  literatures  are  sometimes  rather 
barbarous,  sometimes  too  refined  and  unbalanced, 
almost  always  too  passionate,  too  much  invaded  by 
what  Pascal  called  the  amorous  passions.  Woman  is 
the  inspiring  muse  of  modern  literature,  and  there  is 
a  danger  of  getting  the  minds  of  children  possessed 
with  the  "eternal  womanly."  The  loves  of  Greeks 
and  Romans  are  so  far  off  and  so  vague  that,  as  a 
rule,  they  do  not  have  the  same  disturbing  influence. 
And  at  any  rate  we  can  rapidly  pass  over  that  sort 
of  thing,  and  choose  passages  relating  to  love  of 
fatherland,  or  to  domestic  life.  In  fact,  we  are 
hereditarily  and  historically  connected  with  Greek 
and  Latin  antiquity:  there  is  nothing  more  natural 
than  that  this  connection  should  be  maintained,  for 
after  all  the  Greeks  and  Latins  remain  the  incompar- 
able masters  of  literature.  As  far  as  we  know,  they 
have  not  deserved  to  be  hunted  away  by  either 
Teutons  or  Saxons.  What  would  be  gained  by  it? 
After  the  seven  or  eight  years  at  college  always 
necessary  to  a  complete  education,  the  same  ignor- 
ance of  Latin  and  Greek  of  which  we  complain  at 
the  present  moment  would  be  found  to  exist  with 
respect  to  German  and  English.  It  is  not  linguistic 
acquirements  we  have  to  consider,  but  the  acquired 
development  of  mind  and  taste.  From  this  point  of 
view  let  the  old  classics — the  masters  of  the  French 
classics — remain  a  part  of  the  curriculum. 

Free  oral  translations  have  been  adopted  in  the 
French  colleges  instead  of  long  written  exercises; 
semi-passive  exercises  instead  of  active  exercises, 
themes,  verses,  speeches.       In   my  opinion  this  is  a 


238  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

false  step.  It  used  to  be  thought  that  the  important 
thing  was  to  know  from  end  to  end  as  many  classical 
works  as  possible  ;  but  it  is  not  a  matter  of  quantity. 
Besides,  the  ancients — not  only  Homer,  but  almost 
all  the  rest — nod  a  good  deal.  A  classical  fragment 
thoroughly  studied  is  worth  a  whole  book  read  in 
haste.  To  be  attached  to  an  author,  to  penetrate  his 
thought  in  every  phrase,  to  follow  it  by  comparing 
one  phrase  with  another — that  is  what  gives  strength 
and  logic  to  the  intellect.  Besides,  there  is  involved 
in  this  method  a  careful  study  of  form  ;  the  author 
should  be  faithfully  interpreted,  nothing  must  be 
added  to  or  taken  from  his  meaning ;  the  sense, 
movement,  colour,  and  harmony  must  all  be  faith- 
fully exhibited  :  this  kind  of  work  makes  a  language 
plastic.  The  writing  of  a  speech,  given  nothing  but 
the  subject  and  correlative  historical  facts,  teaches 
how  to  find  the  ideas  and  sentiments  in  keeping  with 
the  particular  circumstances  or  character,  and  forms 
an  exercise  in  psychology.  The  professor,  be  it 
understood,  ought  to  inspire  his  pupils  with  a  love  of 
truth,  and  with  a  wholesome  contempt  for  declama- 
tion, and  ought  to  bring  to  their  notice  as  frequently 
as  possible  the  real  speeches  given  in  history.^  For 
French  composition  he  must  seek  out  subjects  familiar 
to  the  student,  into  the  treatment  of  which  they  will 
introduce  their  observations,  sentiments,  and  impres- 
sions— in  fact,  themselves.  Bersot  objects  to  Latin 
speeches,  that  in  order  to  succeed  in  them  the  pupil 
has  first  to  think  with  great  effort  in  French,  and 
afterwards  translate  his  thoughts  with  great  effort 
into  Latin  ;  in  this  extreme  labour  of  thought  and 
writing   the    pupiFs  thought  and   its   expression  are 

^  Vide  Bersot,  Questions  cV Enseignement. 


OBJECT   OF   A   CLASSICAL   EDUCATION.  239 

both  wide  of  the  mark.  The  answer  is — that  every 
work  of  art  and  style  demands  effort  and  repeated 
trial ;  that  is  what  makes  it  useful.  The  Latin  of  the 
pupils,  says  another  critic,  is  a  collection  of  expres- 
sions and  turns  which  besiege  their  memory  and  beat 
at  the  doors  of  the  mind  to  gain  admittance ;  these 
expressions  and  turns  are  from  all  authors  and  from 
all  periods  promiscuously;  the  pupils  mark  as  prefer- 
able what  has  struck  them  as  being  most  remote  from 
usage,  so  that  the  uniform  flow  of  the  language 
escapes  them.  What  does  it  matter?  We  do  not 
learn  Latin  to  talk  Latin,  nor  to  write  the  pure  Latin 
of  a  single  epoch :  that  is  mere  gymnastics.  We 
must  not  dwell  so  much  upon  the  result  as  upon  the 
effort  of  arrangement,  composition,  and  expression. 
Latin  verses  are  better  still ;  they  are  an  introduction 
— imperfect,  no  doubt,  but  nevertheless  very  useful — 
to  the  language  of  poetry,  its  association  of  images, 
its  harmony,  and  its  rhythm.  Written  translations 
are  a  capital  exercise  in  logic  and  style.  Narratives 
are  excellent,  provided,  as  has  been  said,  "  that  the 
narratives  of  history  are  historical,  and  that  in  other 
subjects  the  student  is  not  expected  to  write  upon  a 
topic  of  which  he  is  ignorant."  Scientific,  philo- 
sophical, moral,  and  literary  dissertations  accustom 
the  pupil  to  reason  and  to  form  a  judgment ;  literary 
analysis  accustom  him  to  seize  the  essential  charac- 
teristics of  a  work.  These  exercises,  different  in  kind 
and  wisely  alternated,  strengthen  the  mind  and  make 
it  flexible.  But  above  all,  verses — Latin  verses — are 
pre-eminently  the  literary  exercise ;  a  student  who 
has  never  written  a  Latin  verse  is  not  really  a  man 
of  letters.  Latin  verse  develops  the  poetic  instinct, 
without  persuading  the  student  that  he  is  a  budding 


240  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

poet,  without  intoxicating  him  beforehand  with  the 
triumph  of  the  salon. 

No  exercise  can  therefore  replace  either  verses, 
speeches,  narratives,  or  dissertations  in  literary  educa- 
tion. Their  invention  is  sometimes  ascribed  to  the 
Jesuits  as  a  crime,  sometimes  as  an  honour.  But,  in 
fact,  poetry  and  eloquence  have  always  been  the  basis- 
of  literary  teaching.  It  was  so  in  India,  Egypt, 
Greece,  and  Rome ;  we  followed  the  same  course  our- 
selves until  recent  days.  M.  Maneuvrier  says,  with 
considerable  justice,  that  there  is  essentially  an  orator 
and  poet  within  each  of  us ;  this  poet  or  this  orator 
emerges  at  a  given  moment  to  express  our  emotions, 
passions,  or  ambitions.  Literary  culture  addresses  itself 
to  these  intimate  forms  of  our  being,  to  these  essential 
elements  of  our  humanity;  and  that  is  why  it  is  called 
the  supreme  interest  of  education.  Now,  how  can  we 
best  introduce  the  young  to  poetry  and  eloquence? 
Will  it  be  enough  to  narrate  history  to  them  ?  Will 
it  be  enough  to  make  them  read  ?  Is  a  sculptor 
formed  by  "  listening  to  tales  of  Michael  Angelo,  or  a 
painter  by  being  shown  *Moses  and  the  Holy  Family'?" 
No!  Composition,  construction  of  verses — even  of 
bad  verses, — of  speeches — even  of  bad  speeches, — of 
narratives,  and  of  descriptions,  are  all  necessary.  By 
learning  to  set  our  ideas  in  order  we  acquire  new 
ideas,  the  result  of  association  and  suggestion. 

No.  doubt  we  must  not  fall  into  the  exclusive 
worship  of  form ;  but  there  is  a  sure  way  of  preventing 
that:  introduce  early  into  our  classes  moral,  civic, 
aesthetic — in  a  word,  philosophical — studies.  If  we 
add  scientific  instruction  of  an  equally  philosophical 
and  even  aesthetic  character,  which  will  display  the 
noble  and  beautiful  side  of  truth,  we  shall  accustom 


HISTORY.  241 

the  pupils  to  think  and  feel,  and  not  to  speak  unless 
they  have  something  to  say.  To  unite,  co-ordinate, 
and  at  the  same  time  to  simplify  literary  and 
scientific  studies,  a  middle  term  is  needed,  viz.,  the 
study  of  moral  and  social  science,  of  the  philosophy 
of  history,  the  philosophy  of  art,  and  the  philosophy 
of  science.  Not  only  to  the  higher  order  of  minds, 
but  also  to  minds  less  cultured  and  incapable  of 
initiative,  is  philosophy  useful.  This  is  not  because 
an  average  mind  cannot  retain  a  certain  number  of 
precise  details, — quite  the  contrary;  but  it  is  the 
main  lines  of  connection  between  facts  that  escape 
them.  Even  a  thorough  scientific  training  in  one 
fixed  subject  will  not  bring  these  main  lines  to  view; 
just  as  little  can  literary  training  do  this ;  philo- 
sophical training  alone,  by  widening  the  mind,  will 
bring  them  home  to  the  student 


II.  History, 

History  has  been  rightly  called  "a  great  cemetery." 
The  most  learned  historian  is  he  who  best  knows  the 
names  of  the  dead,  who  has  deciphered  most  epitaphs 
on  human  tombs.  For  the  mind  which  makes  of 
history  its  exclusive  study,  it  may  remain  as  barren 
as  death  itself.  History  derives  its  special  value  from 
its  social  and  philosophical  side. 

There  is  a  continual  tendency  to  give  more  pro- 
minence to  history,  as  well  as  to  the  sciences,  in  the 
study  of  the  classics.  This  is  a  mistake,  and  opposed 
to  the  opinion  even  of  our  best  historians.  When  M. 
Fustel  de  Coulanges,  in  an  inaugural  lecture  at  the 
Sorbonne,  took  as  his  subject  the  origin  and  growth 

16 


242  EDUCATION   AND  HEREDITY. 

of    Roman   institutions,   he    devoted   part   of    it   to 
demolishing   commonplaces   which   vaunt   the   great 
utility  of  history.     "  We  shall  study  history,"  he  said, 
"purely   for   its   own    sake,  and    for   the   interest  of 
which  the  knowledge  of  its  development  admits."    M. 
Fustel  de  Coulanges  made  light  of  the  alleged  fruits 
of  experience  which  this  subject  is  supposed  to  supply 
to  statesmen  and   political   leaders.     "A    statesman 
who  is  thoroughly  familiar  with  the  needs,  ideas,  and 
interests  of  his  own  times,  will  have   no  reason  to 
covet  any  historical  erudition  whatever,  though  it  be 
more  complete  and  more  profound  than  his  own.     His 
familiarity  with  the  needs  of  his  day  will  be  of  far 
more  value  to  him  than  the  much  belauded  lessons 
of  history."     History,  he  continues,  may  even  lead  us 
astray,  if  we  do  not  sufficiently  realise  the  difference 
between  the  present  and  the  past.     "  I  by  no  means 
wish  the  world  to  be  governed  by  historians,"  says  M. 
Lavisse.     "  Between  politics  and  history  are  essential 
differences,  especially   in    this    country,  where   there 
exists  no  historic  force  bequeathed  by  the  past  and 
having  an  influence  which  must  be  studied  in  order 
to  control  it.     The  politician  need  not  be  a  learned 
historian  :  it  is  enough  if  he  knows  the  ideas,  passions, 
and  interests  which  underlie  the  opinions  and  acts  of 
contemporary  France.     It  seems  to  me  that  a  really 
good  historian  would  be  a  poor  statesman,  because 
his  veneration  for  the  ruins  of  antiquity  would  prevent 
him  from  resigning  himself  to  necessary  sacrifices." 
In  fact,  it  would  not  do  to  entrust  sanitary  reforms  in 
Paris  to  the  Societe  de  Thistoire  de  Paris  et  de  I'lle 
de   France ;    archaeologists    are    capable    of    feeling 
respect  for  a  fever — if  it  lives  in  an  old  palace.    How- 
ever, if  history  gives  no  precise  notions  which  can  be 


HISTORY.  243 

employed  in  this  or  that  part  of  the  art  of  govern- 
ment, does  it  not  explain  the  qualities  and  defects  of 
the  French  temperament,  which  on  pain  of  death  it  is 
necessary  to  control?  Does  it  not  warn  different 
forms  of  government  of  the  dangers  peculiar  to  them? 
Does  it  not  teach  patience,  moderation,  and  trust  in 
the  work  of  time?  And  lastly,  does  it  not  teach  us 
our  relations  with  foreign  countries  ? 

The  teaching  of  history  and  geography  is  carried 
on  too  much  by  passive  methods  ;  it  is  a  monologue 
from  the  master,  an  academical  lecture  followed  by 
questions  summing  up  the  previous  lesson  ;  the  pupils 
take  shorthand  notes,  and  afterwards  transcribe  and 
learn  part  of  them  by  heart.  It  would  be  a  good 
thing  to  teach  pupils  about  documents  and  ancient 
remains ;  and  how  varying  evidence  is  checked, 
criticised,  and  verified.^     They  ought  to  be  conducted 

^  It  is  extremely  difficult  to  imagine  how  hard  it  is  to  get  at  historic 
truth,  even  in  the  case  of  recent  events  of  which  there  have  been 
numerous  witnesses.  M.  d'Harcourt  gives  a  curious  instance  of  this 
difficulty  —  or  rather  quasi-impossibility  —  of  recognising  events  as 
they  really  took  place.  He  takes  the  report  of  Marshal  MacMahon 
on  the  battle  of  Solferino. 

**  It  was  on  the  day  after  the  battle,"  says  M.  d'Harcourt,  "and  we 
were  still  on  the  summit  of  the  ridge  where  the  battle  came  to  an  end. 
Lying  or  sitting  in  a  very  narrow  space,  we  could  none  of  us  do 
anything  without  the  knowledge  of  the  rest.  The  Marshal  asked  the 
general  at  the  head  of  his  staff  to  prepare  the  outlines  of  a  report.  The 
latter  ordered  two  of  his  officers  to  draw  up  this  document,  and  they 
immediately  set  to  work.  It  seemed  easy  enough.  The  whole  field  of 
battle  was  in  sight.  All  the  staff-officers  who  had  carried  orders  were 
there  within  a  few  yards.  The  very  source  of  the  most  trustworthy 
and  complete  information  was  at  hand.  The  officers  therefore  drew  up 
their  report  with  a  full  knowledge  of  their  work ;  but  when  it  was 
handed  to  the  head  of  the  staff,  he  objected,  and  asserted  that  the  affair 
had  taken  place  quite  differently, — the  enemy  was  at  that  moment 
in  front  and  not  on  the  left, — the  enemy  had  been  hurled  back  by 
this  corps  and  not  by  that, — a  movement  only  mentioned  cursorily 


244  EDUCATION  AND  HEREDITY. 

on  historical  excursions,  like  those  made  by  geologists 
and  botanists  :  sites  of  battles,  old  streets,  pictures 
and  statues,  cathedrals  and  town  halls,  manuscripts 
and  old  books  in  libraries — all  these  should  be  visited. 
The  different  pupils  should  each  have  a  personal  task 

had  decided  the  day,  etc.  In  short,  the  whole  report  had  to  be 
remodelled  under  the  direction  of  the  general.  When  the  corrections 
were  made,  the  report  was  handed  to  the  Marshal ;  but  scarcely  had 
he  perused  it  than  he  declared  it  incorrect  from  beginning  to  end. — 
*  You  are  utterly  wrong,'  he  cried ;  *  the  flanking  movement  took  place 
much  later ;  I  remember  perfectly  the  orders  I  gave  and  why  I  gave 
them.'  *  But,'  expostulated  the  oflicer  he  was  addressing,  'you  gave 
the  orders  to  me,  and  I  also  think  I  remember  them.'  In  short,  the 
report  already  once  corrected,  was  corrected  again,  until  nothing  was 
left  of  the  original."  Now,  to  make  a  general  report  on  a  battle,  all  the 
reports  bearing  on  different  details  have  to  be  cut  down  in  one  place, 
supplemented  in  another,  and  finally  combined  into  one.  Thus, 
continues  the  narrator  of  this  episode,  documents  relative  to  an  event 
only  lasting  a  few  hours,  and  taking  place  in  the  broad  daylight, 
although  apparently  most  authentic  and  written  without  any  bias  by 
men  who  had  the  best  opportunity  of  knowing  the  facts  —  these 
documents  can  only  inspire  us,  as  far  as  details  are  concerned,  with 
very  moderate  confidence.  What  then  will  be  the  case  when  the 
question  is  of  political  events,  when  intrigue  will  play  its  part,  and  the 
actors  will  be  led  by  party  passion  to  represent  history  in  different 
aspects?  From  this  difficulty  of  obtaining  an  exact  knowledge  of 
facts,  M.  d'Harcourt  is  led  to  the  conclusion  that  no  very  solid  basis 
is  given  to  social  science  by  history.  In  his  opinion,  individual 
experience— r.^.,  the  knowledge  of  a  very  large  number  of  facts,  such 
as  occur  in  the  natural  course  of  events,  the  knowledge  acquired  not  by 
accounts  or  various  readings,  but  by  personal  observation,  first  hand, 
after  a  ripe  age  and  experience  in  public  affairs — constitutes  the  safest 
means  of  investigation  in  every  study  of  human  society,  and  in  most 
historical  studies.  **  No  book  can  replace  experience.  Experience  is 
best  calculated  to  throw  light  upon  the  affairs  of  men  ;  it  enables  us  to 
penetrate  their  motives  much  more  surely  than  history  alone,  which  is 
always  uncertain  in  itself,  always  obscure  to  the  man  who  has  had  no 
practice  in  public  affairs''  We  cannot  fail  to  recognise  that  there  is 
much  truth  in  these  words. — For  some  extremely  valuable  and  sug- 
gestive remarks  on  this  point  see  John  Morley's  Miscellanies^  vol.  iii., 
pp.  15-25.     (Tr.) 


SCIENCE.  245 

allotted  to  him  ;  they  should  be  taught  to  form  their 
own  opinions,  not  to  be  credulous,  and  not  to  make 
up  their  minds  too  rapidly. 


III.  Science. 

Outside  the  sum  total  of  the  narrow  and  positive 
science  indispensable  in  practical  life  all  restricted 
scientific  instruction  is  sterile.  It  may  be  vague,  but 
at  least  let  it  be  broad,  for  general  views,  and  the 
perspective  in  which  science  displays  objects,  are 
worth  far  more  than  the  actual  knowledge  of  the 
things  themselves ;  the  facts  acquired  are  of  far  less 
value  than  the  inductions  drawn.  In  a  word,  even 
the  science  of  nature,  if  I  may  say  so,  is  especially 
valuable  from  the  humanities  contained  in  it. 

Scientific  instruction  develops  the  reasoning  power 
less  than  one  might  think,  for  it  provides  the  mind 
with  facts  and  prepared  formulas  ;  it  does  not  exer- 
cise the  power  of  thinking  for  one's  self  It  does  not 
communicate  that  initiative  which  is  the  basis  of  all 
personal  thought.  In  addition,  it  scarcely  affords 
any  culture  of  the  imagination  which  is  especially 
exercised  by  aesthetic  education.  Philosophical 
training  and  a  good  literary  training  on  proper  lines 
alone  develop  the  reasoning  power.  Mathematics, 
with  their  severity  and  their  apparent  precision,  may 
teach  the  student  to  hide  the  weakness  of  reason 
under  the  force  of  ratiocination  ;  they  give  simple 
formulas  which  are  incapable  of  grasping  reality,  and 
destroy  "that  spirit  oi finesse^'  which  is  the  common- 
sense  of  life.  Mathematicians  fancy  that  their 
formulas  are  infallible  because  they  are  drawn  from 


246  EDUCATION  AND  HEREDITY. 

mathematics,  and  they  have  a  formula  for  every- 
thing ;  everything  is  classed,  ticketed,  and  in  such 
a  way  as  to  preclude  discussion :  how  can  one 
dispute  with  a  formula?  Even  in  physical  science 
the  teaching  excludes  every  possibility  of  doubting 
the  facts  recognised  and  registered  by  science.  It  is 
true  that  in  certain  cases  the  master,  if  he  has  the 
necessary  apparatus,  can  give,  before  the  eyes  of  his 
pupils,  a  practical  demonstration  of  the  truths  he 
teaches.  But  this  demonstration  is  a  mere  "  illustra- 
tion "  which  can  in  no  way  develop  the  mechanism 
of  inductive  reasoning.  Herbart  was  right  when 
he  said  that  science  teaching  in  the  colleges  will 
always  eminently  favour  the  deductive  faculty  :  for 
the  contrary  to  take  place  the  pupil  ought  to  be  able, 
as  in  grammatical  and  literary  exercises,  to  incessantly 
verify  and  check  any  law  that  is  not  self-evident,  or 
is  not  imposed  upon  the  mind  with  irresistible  force. 
We  are  allowed  to  question  the  correctness  of  an 
application  of  grammatical  rules  or  of  an  expression  ; 
the  pupil  may  without  any  drawback  criticise  it,  take 
it  as  doubtful,  or  hesitate  before  applying  the  rule ;  but 
we  cannot  imagine  ourselves  "questioning  the  accuracy 
of  a  table  of  logarithms,  or  of  the  laws  of  gravity." 

In  scientific  teaching  the  essential  point  is  the 
method ;  in  these  days  it  is  passive,  and  very  often  ends 
in  merely  mechanical  work,  in  editing — the  work  of  the 
drudge  and  the  copyist  :  active  methods  must  be  sub- 
stituted for  passive.  Teach  a  little  science,  but  teach 
it  scientifically — that  is  to  say,  by  reconstructing  the 
science  and  making  the  student  reconstruct  it.  The 
students  ought,  each  in  his  turn,  to  handle  the  appar- 
atus and  make  experiments ;  the  pupils  ought  to  care- 
fully keep  the  apparatus,  and  make  collections  of  plants 


TECHNICAL   INSTRUCTION.  247 

and  minerals — to  go  botanising.^  We  do  not  present 
with  sufficient  force  the  connection  between  theory 
and  practice ;  we  do  not  give  the  pupils  habits  of 
accuracy  and  observation.  We  ought  to  commence 
with  the  study  of  physical  and  natural  science,  with- 
out forgetting  that  knowledge  which  is  of  daily  use 
through  life,  such  as  hygiene,  with  the  notions  of 
physiology  upon  which  it  is  based.  "  There  is  scarcely 
anybody,"  says  Spencer,  "  to  whom  you  put  the  ques- 
tion, who  has  not  in  the  course  of  his  life  brought 
upon  himself  illnesses  which  a  little  information  would 
have  saved  him  from.  Here  is  a  case  of  heart  dis- 
ease consequent  on  a  rheumatic  fever  that  followed 
reckless  exposure.  .  .  .  Yesterday  it  was  one  whose 
long-enduring  lameness  was  brought  on  by  continu- 
ing, spite  of  the  pain,  to  use  a  knee  after  it  had  been 
slightly  injured.  And  to-day  we  are  told  of  another 
who  has  had  to  lie  by  for  years,  because  he  did  not 
know  that  the  palpitation  he  suffered  under  resulted 
from  overtaxed  brain.  Now  we  hear  of  an  irremedi- 
able injury  which  followed  some  silly  feat  of  strength; 
and  again,  of  a  constitution  that  has  never  recovered 
from  the  effects  of  excessive  work  needlessly  under- 
taken. ...  Is  it  not  clear  that  the  physical  sins — 
partly  our  forefathers'  and  partly  our  own — which 
produce  this  ill-health  .  .  .  make  life  a  failure  and  a 
burden  instead  of  a  benefaction  and  a  pleasure  ?  "  ^ 

IV.    Technical  Instruction, 

The  new  technical  instruction   undertaken  by  the 
lyceum,  wrote  Bersot,  is  so  far  mischievous  that  the 

^  Vide  M.  Maneuvrier  and  M.  Blanchard  on  this  subject. 
2  Spencer,  Education^  p.  15, 


248  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

other  pupils  despise  it,  and  "  mark  their  contempt  by 
the  name  they  give  it  .  .  .  they  are  so  convinced  of 
their  own  superiority  that  they  convince  even  those 
upon  whom  they  heap  their  contempt.  .  .  .  The  pre- 
judice is  so  strong  that  students  do  not  enter  for  these 
professional  courses,  but  fall  into  them."  In  my  opinion 
there  is  a  very  just  feeling  in  this  contempt — the 
sense  of  the  danger  which  is  now  becoming  more  and 
more  menacing  to  classical  education.  M.  Frary 
himself  recognises  that  the  "  experiment  has  failed." 
If  we  persist  in  this  course  we  shall  eventually  dis- 
organise classical  education  by  trying  to  organise  the 
other.  Then  we  shall  see  unfolded  the  whole  logic  of 
consequences.  We  shall  no  longer  consider  in  instruc- 
tion anything  except  what  will  or  will  not  be  useful  to 
the  future  profession.  Then  Latin  and  Greek  will  be 
useless.  Most  parents  will  say,  What  is  the  use  of  them  ? 
And  this  will  suit  the  idleness  of  the  children  very  well. 
Presently  the  whole  of  France  will  be  full  of  short- 
sighted utilitarians,  and  classics  will  have  had  their 
day.  The  dite^  whom  they  profess  to  form  by  means 
of  a  classical  training,  losing  the  instruction  common 
to  pupils  receiving  technical  training,  will  hardly  exist 
at  all,  or  will  be  reduced  to  the  infinitely  small. 

Besides,  all  precocious  specialisation  is  dangerous. 
A  given  individual  is  never  one,  but  several  individuals; 
some  children  first  resemble  their  father,  then  their 
mother,  and  thus  successively  represent  a  series  of 
types  distinct  both  morally  and  physically.  We 
cannot  therefore  flatter  ourselves  that  we  can  lay 
hold  of  the  man  in  his  final  aspect  either  in  the  child 
or  even  in  the  youth ;  we  can  therefore  never  fore- 
see all  the  possibilities  in  a  character,  all  the  apti- 
tudes which  it  will  develop.     Hence  the  danger  of 


COMPETITION   AND   EXAMINATIONS.  249 

all  education  which  prejudges  too  hastily  the 
tendencies  of  the  child.  The  only  object  of  tech- 
nical instruction,  for  instance,  should  be  to  awaken 
aptitudes,  and  never  to  respond  to  aptitudes  supposed 
to  exist.  Without  this  it  is  a  mutilation  from  which 
a  whole  life  may  suffer.  Once  again,  it  is  not  a  fixed 
and  crystallised  individual  that  the  educator  has  to 
deal  with;  it  is  the  shifting  series  of  individuals,  a 
family  in  the  moral  sense  of  the  word  as  well  as  in 
the  sense  in  which  it  is  taken  in  natural  history.  A 
specialist  is  very  often  Utopian  ;  his  sight  is  distorted 
by  the  narrowness  of  his  horizon.  All  precocious 
specialisation  is  a  disequilibration.  To  make  a  soldier, 
an  engineer,  or  a  musician,  is  not  necessarily  to  turn 
out  a  man  in  the  full  possession  of  all  his  faculties. 
Moreover,  we  must  take  into  account  the  failures,  the 
rejection  of  candidates  at  entrance  examinations,  etc. 
Out  of  the  thousands  of  candidates  for  the  Ecole 
Polytechnique,  for  instance,  only  300  are  admitted ; 
now  if  a  good  polytechnician  is  not  necessarily  an 
accomplished  man,  what  will  a  polytechnician  who 
has  failed  be  ? 


V.   Competition  and  Examinations, 

We  are  familiar  with  the  drawbacks  of  competition, 
and  especially  of  those  examinations  with  long  pro- 
grammes, causes  of  expenditure  which  can  be  with 
difficulty  recuperated,  and  further,  which  can  only  set 
in  active  motion  one  special  organ  of  the  brain,  the 
memory ;  examinations  do  not  even  strengthen  that 
organ,  they  exhaust  it.  The  only  good  thing  in  com- 
petition is  the  emulation  it  develops;  but  this  emulation 


250  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

only  acquires  its  tension  or  becomes  discharged  with 
a  view  to  a  frequently  fictitious  result — superiority 
for  a  single  day  on  one  particular  point.  Very 
often  emulation  stops  there,  and  thinks  the  rank  it 
has  gained  fixed  and  final.  Competition  gives  a 
verdict  which  checks  the  winners  by  giving  them  an 
exaggerated  consciousness  of  their  value,  the  losers 
by  discouraging  them.  It  is  emulation  discontinuous 
and  disorganised,  instead  of  being,  as  it  ought  to  be, 
a  mode  of  organising  emulation.  It  may  be  said  that 
it  is  not  a  bad  thing  that  men  should  from  time  to 
time  come  to  the  top,  but  it  is  a  bad  thing  that  men 
should  ever  be  at  the  bottom.  The  Bachelor's 
degree  ought  to  be  nothing  but  the  last  of  the  pass 
examinations,  as  it  was  once  happily  defined,  the 
pass  examination  from  the  college  to  the  "  Faculty." 
Custom  has  made  something  else  of  it ;  too  often 
success  is  attained  by  artificial  and  hasty  means  of 
preparation.  Troubles  of  every  kind  are  the  natural 
result ;  numbers  of  students  willingly  flatter  them- 
selves that  it  will  be  possible  to  make  up  in  rhetoric 
and  philosophy  for  the  time  lost  or  wasted  since  they 
left  the  sixth.  A  number  of  masters  are  led  to  con- 
sider the  requirements  of  the  examination  as  guiding 
their  teaching,  of  which  they  thus  diminish  the 
liberty,  the  elevation,  and  the  general  and  generous 
scope.  Certain  eager  spirits  can  see  only  one  hope 
of  safety — the  extinction  of  the  baccalaureat.  They 
wish  to  replace  it  by  special  entrance  examinations 
to  the  great  schools,  Faculties,  and  government  offices. 
This  solution  of  the  problem  would  only  accelerate 
the  ruin  of  classical  education.  The  scholars  would 
cease  to  be  interested  in  anything  but  the  particular 
subjects   required    at   the   entrance   to   the   different 


HIGHER   EDUCATION.  25  I 

professions.  The  unity  of  secondary  education  would 
be  broken,  the  college  would  be  transformed  into 
a  confused  group  of  preparatory  schools  in  which 
primary  knowledge  would  be  the  only  connecting 
link.  We  must  clearly  combine  the  Bachelor's 
degree  with  a  pass  examination,  as  in  Germany. 


VI.  Higher  Education, 

According  to  the  theory  adopted  in  Germany,  the 
technical  schools  only  take  up  one  part  of  knowledge, 
whereas  the  universities  have  as  their  object  the 
bringing  together  of  all  those  parts  and  making  a 
synthesis  of  them.  The  schools  take  up  applied 
science;  the  universities  aspire  to  pure  science;  the 
schools  turn  out  the  workmen  who  apply  discoveries; 
the  universities  train  the  inventors  who  make  the 
discoveries.  "  Schools  are  the  realm  of  action,  univer- 
sities are  the  realm  of  light,"  said  P^re  Didon  in  his 
book  on  the  Germans.  In  an  age  when  the  limits  of 
knowledge  are  ever  receding,  an  isolated  mind  would 
despair,  unaided,  of  discovering  the  unity  of  science; 
the  universities,  a  body  of  men  associated  for  this 
purpose,  make  this  unity  visible  to  every  eye.  "  As 
the  convolutions  of  the  brain  fold  upon  each  other 
and  eventually  form  the  organ  of  thought,  the  different 
sciences  ought  to  be  combined  into  one  single  body 
called  the  Faculties,  which  are  united  in  the  univer- 
sities, to  form  the  great  organ  of  collective  and 
national  science." 

Of  this  ideal  the  German  universities  are  beginning 
to  lose  sight.  Every  university,  says  Deputy  Lasker, 
is  dismembered  by  its  division  into  special  schools, 


252  EDUCATION   AND  HEREDITY. 

even  the  special  subjects  themselves  are  parcelled  out. 
"The  student  becomes  a  scholar,  and  as  obligatory- 
lessons  are  abolished  he  silently  acquiesces  with  his 
professor  on  the  scanty  syllabus  of  general  subjects 
indispensable  in  examinations.  He  does  not  want  to 
be  dragged  in  several  different  directions  at  once,  and 
afraid  of  discursive  study  in  work  of  which  the  subject 
matter  is  ever  increasing,  he  narrowly  confines  himself 
to  a  course  which  will  be  directly  practical.  Whoever 
does  no  natural  science,  leaves  the  university  without 
the  slightest  idea  of  the  most  important  discoveries 
in  Nature.  The  elementary  principles  of  political 
economy,  of  literature,  of  history,  are  amazingly 
unfamiliar  to  most  of  those  whose  special  work  has 
not  embraced  them.  The  class-rooms  are  side  by 
side ;  the  institutions  belong  to  one  great  whole  ;  the 
professors  are  still  connected  by  the  Faculties,  the 
Senate ;  the  general  staff  by  the  statutes  and  external 
organisation ;  but  the  intellectual  bond  is  wanting ; 
personal  relations  are  relaxed,  and  the  students  are  as 
separate  as  if  the  university  were  already  divided  into 
a  system  of  special  schools — each  entirely  distinct 
from  the  rest."  ^  Another  writer,  who,  though  anony- 
mous, is  known  to  be  a  professor  at  one  of  the  great 
German  universities,  has  confirmed  Lasker's  state- 
ment. According  to  him,  the  professorial  lectures  no 
longer  bring  together  different  classes  of  students ; 
each  Faculty  has  its  distinct  audience.  Go  into  a 
lecture-room  where  the  "  gentleman "  is  much  in 
evidence,  and  you  are  in  the  Faculty  of  Law.  In 
another  room  you  see  "  a  queer  mixture  of  sheep's 
heads,  with  here  and  there  a  face  showing  character," 
— you  are  among  the  theologians.     In  a  third,  nearly 

^  Deutsche  Rundschau ,  1874. 


HIGHER  EDUCATION.  253 

every  one  wears  spectacles  ;  the  cut  of  the  hair  varies 
between  being  brushed  far  back  like  a  sheep's,  or 
curled  d  la  Raphael ;  here  is  no  ambition  to  lead  the 
fashion  ;  but  the  audience  is  unfortunate  enough  to 
present  an  almost  complete  collection  of  the  fashions 
of  the  last  fifteen  years.  Hats  brown  with  wear, 
rebellious  shirt-fronts  and  cravats,  great  ears,  high 
cheek-bones,  long  elbows.  There  are  exceptions,  but 
they  are  rare.  These  men  are  attending  courses  on 
philology,  history,  mathematics,  or  the  natural  sciences. 
They  belong  to  the  Faculty  of  Philosophy,  which 
corresponds  to  our  two  Faculties  of  Science  and  Litera- 
ture ;  these  students  are  future  teachers  in  the  gym- 
nasiums. Each  one  lives  apart  from  his  fellows  ;  even 
this  Faculty  is  divided  and  sub-divided  ;  philologists 
do  not  study  literature,  history  students  do  not  take  up 
philology;  and  d  fortiori  literary  and  scientific  men 
are  entirely  separated  from  each  other.  Thus  the 
university,  which,  as  its  name  indicates,  should  tend 
to  the  universality  of  knowledge,  tends  to  exclusive 
specialisation. 

In  France,  until  lately,  our  Faculties  had  no  regular 
pupils.  Now  each  has  its  own  clientele.  Hence  the 
quarrel  about  open  or  closed  lectures  which  divides 
the  teaching  staff.  Some  pronounce  in  favour  of 
courses  open  to  the  general  public  ;  others  propose  to 
reserve  lectures  for  students  alone.  The  two  things 
are  not  irreconcilable — nay,  they  have  been  recon- 
ciled. Public  teaching  "  invites  the  whole  nation,  and 
even  foreigners,  to  the  study  of  science  and  literature 
— a  study  ever  rejuvenated  and  renewed  by  the  influ- 
ence of  the  world  of  intellect.  A  public  course  of 
lectures  is  an  intellectual  school  with  its  doors  thrown 
open." 


254  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

In  the  German  universities  the  professor  works 
surrounded  by  pupils  and  disciples.  Several  times  a 
week  he  gathers  them  together  to  listen  to  his  lessons, 
which  he  can  multiply  without  any  effort,  because 
they  are  really  only  familiar  conversations  on  the 
science  which  is  his  forte ;  he  widens  or  contracts  his 
syllabus,  and  is  not  worried  by  any  programme  but 
the  interest  of  the  audience.  This  frequent,  often 
daily  contact  of  master  and  pupils,  in  the  opinion  of 
M.  Breal,  leads  to  the  rapid  attainment  of  great 
results.  At  first  this  system  was  introduced  into  the 
Ecole  pratique  de  hautes  Etudes ;  it  has  now  spread 
into  most  of  our  Faculties.  Now  it  has  only  to  be 
generalised  by  combining  public  courses  with  private 
meetings,  the  special  subject  of  which  the  professor 
may  be  at  liberty  to  decide,  and  of  which  he  may 
also  have  the  power  to  fix  the  number  and  duration. 
The  Faculty  of  Literature  in  Paris  has  not  changed 
its  old  habits  ;  it  has  proceeded  "  by  addition,"  not 
feeling  compelled  to  suppress  anything.  Once  it  had 
nothing  but  an  audience,  or  rather  it  did  not  recognise 
the  "legal  existence"  of  the  bona  fide  students,  lost  in 
the  crowd  ;  now  it  has  organised  those  students  into 
a  regular  body.  The  credit  set  down  in  the  budget 
to  meet  the  expenses  of  scholarships  "  de  Hcence  et 
d'agregation  "  has  ensured  the  existence  and  develop- 
ment of  an  institution  which  will  do  good  service, 
even  if  it  only  amounts  to  a  higher  standard  in  the 
recruits  of  the  teaching  staff  of  the  country.  But, 
says  M.  Breal,  unfortunately  these  audiences  are  not 
yet  students ;  they  are  always  candidates.  "  They 
are  called  students  ;  they  have  a  restless  spirit,  a  want 
of  mental  freedom,  a  longing  to  finish  and  be  off." 
While   in   other   countries   the    time    spent    at    the 


HIGHER   EDUCATION.  255 

university  is  the  happiest  of  one's  life,  while  that  life  is 
willingly  prolonged  and  entered  upon  with  joy,  "  our 
scholars  in  for  licentiate  or  fellowship  examinations 
have  but  one  idea — to  pass  their  examination  as 
quickly  as  possible."  Thus  the  Faculties  become 
merely  combinations  of  special  schools. 

Again,  in  addition  to  the  students  who  form  the 
nucleus  of  the  whole  body,  we  must  leave  room  for 
young  people  who  have  joined  of  their  own  accord. 
A  large  number  of  young  people  do  not  know  how  to 
employ  their  leisure  time  when  they  leave  the  lyceum. 
"  He  will  study  the  law,"  says  a  father,  speaking  of 
his  son,  "  and  then  we  shall  see !  "  That  is  how  many 
young  men  take  up  law,  says  M.  Lavisse,  from 
inability  to  do  anything  else,  although  they  are  not 
destined  for  a  legal  career,  and  although  a  scientific 
or  literary  training  would  have  been  much  more 
useful  to  them,  "  Every  one  knows  a  number  of 
farmers,  manufacturers,  merchants,  and  idlers,  who 
have  in  their  youth  crowded,  if  not  the  lecture-rooms, 
at  any  rate  the  registered  lists  of  the  Faculty  of  Law, 
whose  proper  place  would  have  been  in  the  labora- 
tories or  lecture-rooms  of  the  Sorbonne.  There  they 
would  have  received  not  merely  notions  of  more 
practical  utility  in  after  life,  but  that  general  culture 
which  is  only  too  rare  in  this  country." 

Our  classification  of  the  Faculties  is  artificial  ;  to 
divide  them  into  groups  with  distinct  lines  of  demar- 
cation is  harmful  to  science.  In  literature  and 
science  we  must  return  to  the  old  custom  still  obtain- 
ing in  most  foreign  universities ;  we  must  combine 
the  Faculties,  at  present  separated,  into  one  Faculty  of 
Arts,  as  it  used  to  be  called,  or  into  a  Faculty  of 
JPhilosophy^  as  it  is  termed  by  the  Germans.      The 


256  EDUCATION    AND   HEREDITY. 

separation  of  the  Faculties  first  took  place  in  the 
Napoleonic  university ;  it  seriously  injured  nearly  all 
teaching,  and  produced  a  kind  of  anarchy. 


VII.   The  Great  Schools, 

The  great  schools  are  both  necessary  and  dangerous. 
At  the  Ecole  Polytechnique  they  go  in  for  nothing 
but  pure  science ;  the  lectures  form  a  great  physico- 
mathematical  encyclopaedia ;  the  instruction  given  is 
general  instruction,  expected  to  develop  the  scientific 
spirit,  and  to  furnish  each  individual  with  the  tools 
which  will  be  most  useful  to  him  in  his  own  work. 
In  a  word,  the  school  produces  neither  engineers  nor 
officers ;  its  role  is  at  once  higher  and  more  restricted 
than  that  of  its  neighbours  ;  it  simply  has  to  prepare 
boys  for  the  special  training  schools  for  engineers 
and  officers.  Technical  instruction  is  given  in  these 
special  schools,  in  the  Ecole  de  Fontainebleau,  in  the 
iScole  du  g^nie  Maritime,  etc.,  a  two  years'  course ;  in 
the  schools  "  des  mines,  ponts,  et  chaussees,"  a  three 
years'  course. 

Unfortunately  the  polytechnicians  are  overworked 
before  and  during  their  stay  at  the  school.  It  is  a 
good  thing  to  make  a  selection,  but  this  selection 
ought  not  to  end  in  a  physical  extermination.  M. 
Lagneau  tells  us  that  a  remarkably  large  number  of 
invalids  and  insane  has  been  produced  by  the 
regime  of  the  school.  Further,  in  the  competition 
chance  comes  into  play  as  well  as  capacity.  Once 
in  the  school,  the  students  rarely  keep  their  first 
order  of  merit ;  sometimes  the  lists  are  almost 
inverted.      The   requirements   of    the   syllabus    ever 


THE  GREAT  SCHOOLS.  257 

increase,  and  now  they  are  so  great  that  exhaustion 
must  necessarily  follow  if  a  student  passes.  It  is  not, 
say  MM.  Cournot  and  Simon,  that  the  school  itself 
needs  all  this  knowledge,  but  the  examiner,  finding 
choice  difficult,  increases  the  play  of  chance  to  lessen 
his  own  trouble.  If  there  are  only  twenty  questions, 
everybody  will  try  them ;  if  there  are  two  hundred, 
the  best  pupil  will  be  equal  to  one  hundred  and  fifty. 
It  is  certainly  awkward  for  him  if  he  comes  on  any- 
thing he  does  not  know,  but  the  conscience  of  the 
judge  is  free  from  blame.  So  little  by  little  the 
examiners  get  the  habit  of  setting  the  most  "catch- 
ing" questions,  which  are  by  no  means  the  most 
important. 

The  first  of  the  harmful  results  of  this  is  the 
invention  of  the  "  art  of  preparing  for  examinations," 
which  takes  the  place  of  the  *'  art  of  teaching  science." 
While  the  examiner  tortures  the  candidate  and  sets 
him  enigmas  in  the  form  of  questions,  he  is  himself 
examined,  studied,  and  seen  through,  by  the  pre- 
paratory teachers  who  form  his  audience.  His  wiles 
are  discovered,  his  formulas  noted  down,  his  whims 
anticipated.  If  the  same  individual  is  always 
examiner,  the  success  of  the  coach  is  certain.  The 
coach  no  longer  teaches  science,  but  the  art  of  answer- 
ing a  special  person.  Thus  students  are  sent  to  the 
school  that  obtains  most  passes.  They  commence 
all  the  subjects  very  early,  and  go  up  before  they  are 
ready,  so  as  to  get  accustomed  to  the  examination. 
As  M.  Jules  Simon  says,  "  A  boy  is  nearly  certain 
to  get  into  the  Ecole  Polytechnique  by  this  triple 
receipt :  he  must  not  be  decidedly  stupid,  he  must 
not  fall  ill,  he  must  not  be  very  unlucky."  The 
university   has    professors,    not    coaches ;    but   if    it 

17 


^S8  EDUCATION  AND  Heredity. 

refuses  to  adapt  itself  to  this  system  of  training,  it 
will  lose  the  student  preparing  for  State  schools ;  it  is 
therefore  imperatively  obliged  to  follow  the  example 
of  the  rest.  M.  Cournot  points  out  the  singular  con- 
tradiction that  ensues  : — "  The  State  pays  coaches  to 
put  examiners  on  the  wrong  scent  as  to  the  relative 
worth  of  the  examinees,  and  pays  examiners  to  baffle 
the  craft  of  the  'crammer/"  It  is  said  by  some 
that  competition  is  a  good  thing,  that  it  is  a  spur  to 
each  of  the  competitors,  and  obliges  each  to  do  his 
best.  M.  Simon  retorts  that  this  is  not  quite  so 
certain  as  they  would  like  to  make  out,  especially  as 
far  as  teaching  is  concerned.  As  far  as  "cramming" 
is  concerned  it  is  absolutely  false ;  for  there  is  no 
contest  as  to  who  will  turn  out  the  best  pupils,  but  as 
to  who  will  get  the  most  candidates  through.  Here 
the  university  submits  to  a  regime  for  which  it  is  not 
responsible.  Unfortunately  the  Ecole  Polytechnique, 
like  the  Ecole  de  Saint-Cyr,  is  under  the  control  of 
the  War  Minister,  who  is  not,  as  a  rule,  an  authority 
in  matters  of  instruction.  All  parents  will  bless  the 
advent  of  one  reform — the  increasing  the  maximum 
age  by  two  or  three  years.  The  Minister  of  War 
refuses  it  now  because  he  refused  it  before.  We  can 
understand  a  rigid  limit  of  age  in  the  navy,  because 
of  the  importance  of  becoming  early  accustomed  to 
the  sea ;  nevertheless,  the  young  people  who  become 
first-class  students  when  they  leave  the  Ecole  Poly- 
technique are  not  necessarily  bad  sailors  in  conse- 
quence. But  why  should  they  not  enter  other 
professions  two  or  three  years  later?  No  student 
under  twenty-one  is  received  in  the  Ecole  Poly- 
technique unless  he  has  had  two  years'  effective 
military  service ;  and  in  the  latter  case  he  is  allowed 


THE  GREAT   SCHOOLS.  259 

to  enter  if  no  more  than  twenty-five  on  July  ist  of 
the  year  of  the  examination.  Now  no  harm  can 
accrue  to  the  Ecole  Polytechnique  from  receiving 
students  at  that  age ;  and  therefore  it  is  a  mistake  to 
fix  twenty  as  the  limit  of  age,  to  the  detriment  alike 
of  the  work  and  the  health  of  the  students.^  These 
two  or  three  years  would  not  be  wasted,  if  they  gave 
time  for  a  solid  instead  of  a  hasty  preparation.  "  The 
State  schools  would  gain  by  it ;  and  it  would  be  an 
immense  benefit  to  our  colleges,  for  we  should  be  free 
to  study  for  the  sake  of  study.  Instead  of,  as  at 
present,  students  for  the  civil  professions  going 
through  the  same  mill  as  candidates  for  the  State 
schools,  both  would  escape  methods  of  cramming  and 
forcing,  and  would  be  instructed  and  brought  up  like 
men."2  The  Ecole  Polytechnique  wants  a  picked  set 
of  boys ;  for  that  purpose  it  eliminates  as  many  as  it 
can,  but  under  the  guise  of  an  elaborate  syllabus,  by  a 
series  of  questions,  problems,  and,  as  the  boys  call 
them,  "colles."^  It  would  be  far  better  to  choose  this 
dite,  not  from  those  who  have  overloaded  their 
memories,  but  from  those  who  have  most  talent,  and 
who  are  not  high-minded.  The  simplest  remedy  is 
for  the  Ecole  Polytechnique  to  admit  only  bacca- 
lauriats  es  lettreSy  and  then  to  draw  up  its  own 
scientific  programme  of  subjects  for  examination. 

^   Vide]\x\Q%  Simon,  Riforme  de  V Enseignementy  p.  361. 
a  Ibid.  8  "Stumpers"  (?).     (Tr.) 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE   EDUCATION   OF   GIRLS  AND   HEREDITY. 

The    whole    question   of  the   education    of   women 
seems  to  be  governed  by  the  following  principles : — 

1st.  Woman  is  physiologically  weaker  than  man;  she 
has  but  a  small  reserve  of  energy  to  make  up  for  the 
considerable  expenditure  entailed  by  brain-work  carried 
beyond  certain  limits.  2nd.  The  generative  function 
occupies  a  far  more  important  place  in  the  female  than 
in  the  male  organism.  Now  this  function,  according  to 
all  physiologists,  is  antagonistic  to  brain  expenditure; 
the  disequilibration  produced  in  the  woman  by  intel- 
lectual work  will  therefore  be  necessarily  greater  than 
in  man.  3rd.  The  consequences  to  the  race  of  this 
disequilibration  are  much  more  serious  in  the  case  of 
the  woman  than  in  the  case  of  the  man.  The  life 
of  woman,  generally  sedentary  and  under  more  or 
less  unhealthy  conditions,  gives  no  time  for  recupera- 
tion to  a  constitution  exhausted  by  an  irrational 
education,  whereas  in  the  case  of  man  recuperation 
may  take  place ;  on  the  other  hand,  the  mother's 
health  is  of  much  more  importance  to  the  child  than 
the  health  of  the  father.  The  man's  expenditure  in 
paternity  is  insignificant  compared  to  the  woman's; 
the  latter  needs  a  considerable  reserve  of  physical  and 
moral  energy  during  gestation,  maternity,  and  after- 
wards during  the  early  education  of  the  child.  The 
mothers  of  Bacon  and  Goethe,  though  both  very 
remarkable  women,  could  not  have  written  either  the 


THE   EDUCATION   OF   GIRLS   AND   HEREDITY.      26 1 

Novum  Organum  or  Faust;  but  if  they  had  ever  so 
little  weakened  their  generative  powers  by  excessive 
intellectual  expenditure,  they  would  not  have  had  a 
Bacon  or  a  Goethe  as  a  son.  If  during  life  the 
parents  expend  too  much  of  the  energy  they  have 
drawn  from  their  environment,  so  much  the  less  will 
be  left  for  their  children.  Coleridge,  with  all  the 
gravity  in  the  world,  observed:  "The  history  of  a 
man  in  the  nine  months  before  his  birth  would 
probably  be  more  interesting,  and  would  contain 
events  of  greater  importance  than  any  that  may 
occur  in  after  life." 

High  authorities  are  of  opinion  that  the  more 
refined  a  woman's  education  becomes,  the  weaker  her 
children  will  be. 

Spencer,  in  his  Principles  of  Biology^  asserts  that 
physical  labour  makes  woman  less  fertile  '}  and  adds 
that  the  same  relative  or  absolute  sterility  is  generally 
also  the  result  of  overtaxing  the  brains.  "  If  we  con- 
sider that  the  regimen  of  girls  of  the  upper  classes  is 
much  better  than  that  of  girls  belonging  to  the  poorer 
classes,  while  in  most  other  respects  their  physical 
treatment  is  not  worse,  the  deficiency  of  reproductive 
power  among  them  may  be  reasonably  attributed  to 
the  overtaxing  of  their  brains — an  overtaxing  which 
produces  a  serious  reaction  on  the  physique.  This 
diminution  of  reproductive  power  is  not  only  shown 
by  the  greater  frequency  of  absolute  sterility,  nor  is  it 
only  shown  in  the  earlier  cessation  of  child-bearing, 
but  it  is  also  shown  in  the  very  frequent  inability  of 
such  women  to  suckle  their  infants.     In  its  full  sense 

^  Spencer,  however,  says:  **To  prove  much  bodily  labour  renders 
women  less  prolific  requires  more  evidence  than  is  obtainable."— Vol. 
ii,  p.  484.     (Tr.) 


262  EDUCATION    AND   HEREDITY. 

the  reproductive  power  means  the  power  to  bear  a 
well-developed  infant,  and  to  supply  that  child  with 
the  natural  food  for  the  natural  period.  Most  of  the 
flat-chested  girls  who  survive  their  high-pressure 
education  are  incompetent  to  do  this.  Were  their 
fertility  measured  by  the  number  of  children  they 
could  rear  without  artificial  aid  they  would  prove 
relatively  unfertile."^  Dr.  Hertel,^  a  Dane,  has  ascer- 
tained that  in  the  higher  schools  in  his  country 
twenty-nine  per  cent,  of  the  boys  and  forty-one  per 
cent,  of  the  girls  are  in  a  precarious  state  of  health 
from  over-work  :  anaemia,  scrofula,  and  headache  are 
the  most  prevalent  scourges.  Professor  Bystroff,  of 
St.  Petersburg,  has  collected  information  of  the  same 
purport.  From  these  and  many  similar  facts  it  may 
be  concluded  that  the  excessive  work  entailed  by 
competition  and  examinations  in  higher  education, 
dangerous  as  it  is  to  the  race  in  the  case  of  boys,  is 
infinitely  more  so  in  the  case  of  girls.  Fatigue  of 
this  kind,  repeated  for  several  successive  generations, 
would  eventually  absolutely  unfit  the  woman  for  her 
duties  as  a  mother.  The  danger  of  too  scientific  a 
]  \  form  of  instruction  is  much  greater  for  girls ;  for, 
,  being  more  disposed  to  sedentary  work  than  boys, 
they  devote  themselves  entirely  to  mental  work,  and 
as  a  rule  display  more  assiduity.  Not  merely  intel- 
lectual work,  but  also  close  confinement,  bad  food, 
and  insufficient  exercise  are  equally  responsible  for 
these  derangements  of  health.  To  this  must  be 
added  the  evenings  spent  in  soirees  among  the  upper 
classes,  and  in  work  of  every  kind   by   the   poorer 

^  Principles  of  Biology  y  vol.  ii.  pp.  485,  486.     (Tr.) 
2  Overpressure  in  High  Schools  in  Denmark  (Macmillan  &  Co.). 
Dr.  Hertel  adds  chorea  to  anaemia,  etc.     (Tr.) 


THE   EDUCATION   OF   GIRLS   AND   HEREDITY.      263 

classes.  Mr.  Clark,  an  American,  concludes  that  if 
this  goes  on  for  half  a  century  it  needs  no  prophet  to 
predict,  from  the  laws  of  heredity,  "  that  the  mothers 
of  our  future  generations  will  have  to  be  brought 
from  beyond  the  Atlantic."  By  heredity,  therefore,  a 
kind  of  retrograde  selection  is  produced,  which  is 
disastrous  in  its  consequences  ;  for  the  young  girls  of 
the  educated  classes,  who  might  fairly  be  expected  to 
raise  the  level  of  future  generations,  are  either  quite 
incapable  of  becoming  mothers,  or  bring  into  the 
world  puny  beings,  and  thus  leave  to  less  cultivated 
but  more  robust  women  the  care  of  perpetuating  the 
human  race. 

"  Mammas  anxious  to  make  their  daughters  attrac- 
tive could  scarcely  choose  a  course  more  fatal  than 
this,  which  sacrifices  the  body  to  the  mind.  Either 
they  disregard  the  tastes  of  the  opposite  sex,  or  else 
their  conception  of  those  tastes  is  erroneous.  Men 
care  little  for  erudition  in  woman  ;  but  very  much  for 
physical  beauty,  good  nature,  and  sound  sense.  What 
man  ever  fell  in  love  with  a  woman  because  she 
understood  Italian?  Where  is  the  Edwin  who  was 
brought  to  Angelina's  feet  by  her  German  ?  But  rosy 
cheeks  and  laughing  eyes  are  great  attractions.  .  .  . 
The  liveliness  and  good  humour  that  overflowing 
health  produces  go  a  great  way  towards  establish- 
ing attachments.  Every  one  knows  cases  where  bodily 
perfections,  in  the  absence  of  all  other  recommenda- 
tions, have  incited  a  passion  that  carried  all  before  it ; 
but  scarcely  any  one  can  point  to  a  case  where  intel- 
lectual requirements,  apart  from  moral  or  physical 
attributes,  have  aroused  such  a  feeling.  .  .  .  Out  of 
the  many  elements  uniting  in  varying  proportions  to 
produce  in   a  man's  breast  the  complex  emotion  we 


264  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

call  love,  the  strongest  are  those  produced  by  physical 
^  attractions ;  the  next  in  order  of  strength  are  those 
produced  by  moral  attractions  ;  the  weakest  are  those 
produced  by  intellectual  attractions  ;  and  even  these 
are  dependent  less  on  acquired  knowledge  than  on 
natural  faculty — quickness,  wit,  insight.  If  any  think 
this  assertion  a  derogatory  one,  and  inveigh  against 
the  masculine  character  for  being  thus  swayed,  we 
reply  that  they  little  know  what  they  say.  .  .  .  One 
of  Nature's  ends,  or  rather  her  supreme  end,  is  the 
welfare  of  posterity  ;  further,  that  in  so  far  as  posterity 
are  concerned,  a  cultivated  intelligence  based  on  a  bad 
>  physique  is  of  little  worth,  since  its  descendants  will  die 
out  in  a  generation  or  two ;  and  conversely,  that  a 
good  physique^  however  poor  the  accompanying  mental 
endowments,  is  worth  preserving,  because  through 
future  generations  the  mental  endowments  may  be 
indefinitely  developed  ;  we  perceive  how  important  is 
the  balance  of  instincts.  .  .  .  But,  advantage  apart, 
the  instincts  being  thus  balanced,  it  is  folly  to  persist 
in  a  system  which  undermines  a  girl's  constitution 
that  it  may  load  her  memory."  ^ 

Does  it  follow  that  woman  should  not  be  educated  ? 
So  far  from  that  being  so,  we  shall  even  assert  that  she 
ought  to  be  educated  as  far  as  possible  within  the 
limits  of  strength  at  her  disposal.  But  instruction 
is  one  thing,  and  intellectual  waste  another.  The 
problem  in  all  education,  and  especially  in  the  educa- 
tion of  women,  is  to  communicate  the  maximum  of 
necessary  and  ornamental  knowledge  with  the  mini- 
mum waste  of  cerebral  power  in  the  child.  Woman 
has  in  domestic  life  a  role  to  play  which  she  can  never 
shirk ;  she  has  to  morally  and  physically  educate  her 

^  Spencer,  Education^  pp.  187,  188, 


THE   EDUCATION   OF  GIRLS   AND   HEREDITY.      265 

children.  It  is  for  this  function  we  have  to  give 
her  the  best  preparation.  Practical  pedagogy,  with 
domestic  hygiene,  is  almost  the  only  knowledge 
necessary  to  woman,  and  it  is  literally  the  only 
training  she  does  not  get.  Moreover,  pedagogy, 
being  the  art  of  teaching,  implies  ipso  facto  the 
knowledge  of  subjects  to  be  taught ;  and  if  it  is 
further  admitted  that,  to  give  an  accurate  idea  of 
things,  her  knowledge  of  them  must  be  thorough,  the 
way  is  at  once  opened  wide  to  the  activity  and  intel- 
lectual expansion  of  young  girls. 

Another  class  of  knowledge  corresponds  to  the  role 
of  woman,  not  in  the  family,  but  in  society.  Woman 
represents  in  human  psychology  the  being  in  whom 
reside  all  the  most  energetic  and  powerful  sentiments 
— pity,  affection,  "  altruism,"  devotion  ;  she  ought  to 
be  the  embodiment  of  tenderness,  the  sister  of  mercy 
of  mankind.  To  woman  politics  would  be  barren 
and  unpractical ;  but  philanthropy  is  quite  within  her 
reach.  Now  the  philanthropy  of  the  day  is  a  science 
closely  bound  up  with  the  essential  parts  of  political 
economy.  It  is  the  science  which  is  the  basis  of  all 
benevolent  institutions ;  it  is  the  science  teaching  us 
the  direction  in  which  we  must  proceed  to  assuage 
the  evils  of  humanity,  to  alleviate  in  some  degree  the 
misery  that  seems  eternal.  By  the  pathway  of  philan- 
thropy woman  must  approach  political  economy. 

On  the  mother  in  particular  rests  the  task  of 
developing  the  heart.  Maternal  religion  is  the  most 
inoffensive  and  most  useful  of  religions.  The  tender 
reverence  of  the  child  is  an  act  of  piety.  In  the 
evening  let  the  child  kneel  down  ;  examine  its  con- 
science (a  minute  is  quite  long  enough) :  "  I  am 
ashamed  of  my  child  ;    I   want  to  be  proud  of  you 


266  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

to-morrow."  After  correction  the  mother  should  be 
more  pained  at  having  inflicted  than  the  child  at 
having  undergone  the  punishment.  The  mother's 
great  art  is  to  condense  all  morality  into  filial  love, 
which  is  necessarily  its  first  form.  The  fear  of  giving 
pain  to  its  mother  is  the  first,  and  for  a  long  time  the 
only  remorse  felt  by  the  child  ;  this  nafve  remorse 
must  be  refined  by  the  mother,  made  as  deep  as  love 
itself,  and  the  loftiest  sentiments  must  enter  into  this 
formula.  The  mother's  heart  is  the  child's  conscience; 
that  heart  should  therefore  be  the  human  conscience 
in  miniature. 

In  the  education  of  woman  we  have  to  conciliate 
two  opposing  principles.  On  the  one  hand,  having 
at  her  disposal  less  strength  than  man,  woman  cannot 
restore  her  energy  after  an  equal  expenditure  of 
mental  work  ;  on  the  other  hand,  being  destined  to 
be  man's  companion  and  the  educator  of  his  children, 
she  ought  not  to  be  a  stranger  to  any  of  his  occupa- 
tions or  sentiments. 

It  is  only  because  intellectual  labour  is  more  and 
more  imposed  on  young  men  that  it  is  also  imposed  in 
the  same  way  on  young  girls.  To  wish  to  suppress  it 
almost  totally  in  the  case  of  the  latter,  for  fear  of  check- 
ing her  physical  development,  and  with  the  object  of 
restoring  to  man,  by  means  of  his  mother,  the  bodily 
strength  lost  by  the  mental  culture  of  his  father,  is  to 
dream  an  idle  dream.  The  child  inherits  not  only  the 
good  but  the  bad  qualities  of  its  father  and  mother,  and 
in  many  cases  we  should  run  the  risk  of  adding  to  the 
delicate  health  of  the  father  the  mental  lethargy  of 
the  uncultured  mother.  The  mother  who  transmits 
to  her  child  a  robust  constitution  certainly  gives  him 
an  inestimable  gift,  but  if  she  knows  how  to  develop 


THE   EDUCATION   OF   GIRLS   AND   HEREDITY.      267 

his  natural  good  health,  and  how  to  bring  intellect, 
energy,  and  will  into  existence  from  the  vital  powers 
of  the  child,  her  gift  is  doubled  in  value.  Now  this 
second  maternity — a  maternity  of  the  heart  and  mind 
— is  more  difficult  to  prepare  for  than  the  first ;  and 
therefore  it  ought  to  occupy  the  attention  of  the 
educator  at  least  in  an  equal  degree.  Before  thinking 
of  the  future  sons  of  a  little  girl,  it  is  but  rational  to 
think  about  the  girl  herself,  and  that  from  every  side, 
from  a  triple  point  of  view — intellectual,  moral,  and 
physical.  "  If  we  dance  faster  than  the  violins  we 
lose  time,"  says  the  popular  proverb ;  if  we  look  too 
far  ahead  we  may  imagine  what  we  shall  never  see. 
Besides,  let  those  who  think  of  nothing  but  the  roses 
in  a  girl's  cheeks  remember  that  it  is  imperatively 
necessary,  at  least  in  the  leisured  classes,  to  open  a  field 
of  activity  wide  enough  for  the  intellect  of  a  young 
girl — that  intellect  which  nature  has  not  refused  her, 
and  which  will  be  turned  to  account  one  way  or  other, 
if  it  be  only  in  the  thousand  trivialities  and  frivolities 
of  which  a  worldly  life  consists.  Now  we  become  as 
exhausted,  and  we  grow  pale  as  much  and  even  more 
if  our  life  is  idle,  as  if  we  led  a  serious  and  reflective 
existence.  Further,  the  widening  of  the  intellect  cannot 
but  give  a  point  of  support  and  a  fresh  impetus  to  the 
development  of  moral  qualities  which  are  more  in 
evidence  than  we  imagine  beneath  the  freshness  of 
a  girl  of  eighteen.  It  is  mere  folly  to  suppose  that 
an  educated  man  will  be  content  for  long  with  a  rosy- 
cheeked  companion ;  with  familiarity  the  brilliancy  of 
the  complexion  loses  its  charm  ;  but,  on  the  other 
hand,  moral  qualities  are  always  welcome ;  the  cul- 
tivated mind  insensibly  becomes  the  daily  companion. 
Long  ago  it  was  said  that  woman's  true  ro/e  scarcely 


268  EDUCATION  -AND   HEREDITY.  * 

begins  till  she  is  married.^  Let  us  no  longer  forget 
>  that  many  sons  will  resemble  their  mothers ;  the 
moral  and  intellectual  worth  of  the  latter  is  not 
therefore  without  importance  in  the  development  of 
the  child's  character.  From  these  considerations  it 
follows  that  the  real  point  is  to  reform  and  direct,  not 
to  check,  the  education  of  girls.  We  have  subjected 
boys  and  girls  alike  to  the  rigime  of  extreme  intel- 
lectual labour  without  troubling  ourselves  to  repair 

^  "What  an  excellent  adviser,"  says  Stendhal,  **a  man  would  find  in 
his  wife  if  she  knew  how  to  think  !  "  **  The  ignorant  are  the  enemies 
of  the  education  of  women."  **  The  basest  of  men,  if  he  be  only  twenty 
and  have  ruddy  cheeks,  is  dangerous  to  a  woman  who  knows  nothing, 
for  she  has  nothing  but  instinct  to  guide  her ;  on  a  woman  whose  mind 
has  been  cultivated  he  has  no  more  effect  than  a  handsome  lackey." 
"Comparatively  often  a  pretty  young  girl  has  a  bad  character,  and 
turns  out  to  be  lazy.  She  soon  becomes  aware  that  her  face  gives  her 
rights  and  privileges  in  the  eyes  of  men,  and  that  it  is  useless  for  her  to 
attempt  to  acquire  other  qualities  than  the  beauty  she  is  so  fortunate  as 
to  possess."  "  The  desire  to  please  places  modesty,  delicacy,  and 
every  feminine  grace  for  ever  beyond  the  disturbing  influence  of  any 
possible  education.  It  is  as  if  we  were  afraid  of  teaching  a  bird  not  to 
sing  in  the  spring."  "  Womanly  graces  are  not  due  to  ignorance;  take, 
for  example,  the  worthy  village  tradesmen's  wives,  or  in  England  the 
wives  of  the  wealthy  merchants."  "Most  men  have  one  period  in  their 
lives  when  they  can  do  great  things:  nothing  then  seems  to  them  im- 
possible. The  ignorance  of  women  loses  this  magnificent  chance  for 
humanity.  Love  at  the  most  gives  a  man  a  good  mount,  and  makes 
him  choose  a  better  tailor."  "All  early  experience  must  necessarily 
contradict  the  truth.  Enlighten  a  young  girl's  mind,  form  her  char- 
acter, give  her,  in  fact,  a  good  education  in  the  true  sense  of  the  word ; 
sooner  or  later  she  is  aware  of  her  superiority  to  the  rest  of  her  sex,  and 
becomes  a  pedant — ?'.<?.,  the  most  disagreeable  and  degraded  person  in 
the  world.  Rather  than  spend  a  lifetime  with  her,  there  is  not  one  of 
us  who  would  not  prefer  a  servant  to  a  learned  woman.  Plant  a  young 
tree  in  the  centre  of  a  thick  forest,  where  its  neighbours  deprive  it  of 
light  and  air;  its  leaves  will  become  sickly,  it  will  assume  a  lanky, 
ridiculous,  and  unnatural  appearance.  A  whole  forest  must  be  planted 
at  one  and  the  same  time.  What  woman  would  be  conceited  because 
she  knows  how  to  read?  " 


THE  EDUCATION   OF  GIRLS  AND  HEREDITY.      269 

the  expenditure  of  strength  involved  in  such  con- 
tinuous effort :  this  is  tantamount  to  embarking  for 
far-off  seas  without  providing  for  any  emergency. 
Bad  hygiene  is  prevalent  nearly  everywhere,  but 
among  the  middle  classes,  precisely  where  girls  have 
to  work  most  earnestly  (for  it  is  a  matter  of  bread- 
winning  with  them),  they  are  ignorant  of  the  very 
elements.  Hence  the  systematic  exhaustion  of  boys 
and  girls  who  have  to  provide  for  the  twofold  develop- 
ment of  mind  and  body.  Now  the  remedy  is  simple. 
If  rules  are  presented  to  a  woman  as  absolute,  no  ^ 
one  is  stricter  in  their  observance.  Teach  hygiene 
just  as  you  teach  housekeeping,  and  you  will  see 
woman  as  sternly  opposed  to  any  breach  of  the  laws 
of  health  as  to  the  presence  of  dust  on  her  furniture. 
To  give  little  girls  every  possible  opportunity  of 
regaining  on  the  one  hand  what  they  lose  on  the 
other — good  food,  varied  open-air  exercise,  plenty  of 
sleep — will  be  in  itself  an  enormous  benefit,  for  it 
is  a  natural  law  that  in  healthy  individuals  all  expen- 
diture of  energy  has  only  to  be  replaced.  The 
moralising  influence  of  examinations,  for  boys  and 
girls  alike,  in  our  present  organisation  of  instruction, 
consists  in  the  assigning  of  a  definite  object  to  the 
work  of  the  young,  and  in  accustoming  them  to  effort, 
and  to  continuous  effort;  they  must  display  power  c 
of  will  and  perseverance,  and  that  in  itself  constitutes 
superiority  in  all  who  are  capable  of  it.  Only  it  must 
be  understood  that  the  total  result  leaves  much  to  be 
desired,  if  numbers  of  our  young  folk,  especially  girls, 
sacrifice  the  flower  of  their  strength  to  obtain  generally 
useless  certificates. 

If  we  are  right  at  all  in  protesting  against  over- 
pressure,   it    is    certainly    here    where   we    have   to 


270  EDUCATION   AND  HEREDITY. 

deal  with  young  girls  who  have  little  strength  to  spare. 
The  protest  must  be  raised  against  all  knowledge  not 
of  general  utility.  Besides,  nothing  is  so  fatiguing 
as  the  irrational  or  the  fastidious,  for  the  mind  ceases 
to  feel  interest  in  it ;  and  when  no  curiosity  is  felt 
effort  alone  remains,  thus  doubling  the  sense  of 
tedium.  A  young  girl,  whose  sphere  in  life  is  not 
determined  beforehand,  ought  to  acquire  a  general 
view  of  the  main  lines  of  human  knowledge, 
and  ought  not  to  be  limited  to  an  arduous,  and 
necessarily  restricted,  erudition.  The  object  of  her 
education  is  to  make  no  subject  unfamiliar  to  her, 
so  that  as  occasion  arises  she  may  apply  her  education 
to  the  given  object.  For  the  young  girl  knows  even 
less  than  the  young  man  in  what  direction  life  will 
carry  her.  A  woman  may  be  called  upon  to  help 
her  husband  in  his  work,  to  watch  over  the  studies 
of  her  sons, — at  any  rate  in  their  early  stages, — ^to 
educate  her  daughters :  in  addition  we  must  reckon 
with  the  chances  of  life,  and  she  may  even  have  to 
bring  up  her  young  family  by  her  own  exertions. 
But  it  should  be  clearly  understood  that  we  have 
not  to  teach  her  everything,  but  to  fit  her  to  learn 
everything,  by  giving  her  a  taste  for  study  and  an 
interest  in  every  subject. 

Similar  emotional  motives,  says  M.  Rochard,  urge 
children  of  both  sexes  to  excessive  intellectual 
work.  Young  men  have  diplomas  to  win,  they  have 
in  view  the  laurels  of  the  great  competitions,  or 
admission  into  a  State  school.  Girls  have  their 
teaching  certificate,  and  admission  into  the  normal 
schools.  The  development  of  primary  instruction 
during  the  last  few  years  has  created  an  attractive 
career,    especially    in    the    large    towns.       Primary 


THE  EDUCATION   OF  GIRLS  AND  HEREDITY.      2/1 

instruction  affords  to  young  girls  a  means  of  raising 
themselves  above  their  condition  in  life,  of  leaving  the 
condition  of  inferiority  in  which  their  family  happens 
to  be,  of  gratifying  *^  the  taste  for  pleasure  that  every- 
thing contributes  to  develop  in  them,  and  which  we 
seem  to  make  it  our  business  to  over-excite."  To 
attain  this  end,  there  are  no  efforts  or  sacrifices  which 
they  will  not  gladly  make.  They  abandon  household 
cares,  and  devote  themselves  with  increasing  ardour  to 
studies  which  only  exhaust  them,  and  very  often  end 
in  delusion.  From  the  attractions  it  offers,  the  pro- 
fession of  teaching  is  so  overcrowded  that  it  is  nothing 
but  a  decoy.  On  January  ist,  1887,  there  were  in 
France  12,741  young  girls  looking  forward  to  this 
career  ;  4,714  out  of  this  number — i.e.^  nearly  a  third 
— were  from  the  Department  of  the  Seine.  Now  in 
Paris,  in  1887,  there  were  only  sixty  vacancies,  of 
which  twenty-five  were  allotted  in  advance  to  pupils 
leaving  the  Ecole  normale.  The  rest  had  to  be  divided 
among  the  assistants  receiving  a  fixed  salary,  and  they 
were  not  less  than  forty.  From  this  we  may  form  an 
opinion  as  to  the  fate  which  awaited  the  8,567  young 
girls  who  were  candidates  for  similar  posts  in  the 
provinces.  The  ever-increasing  number  of  applicants 
has  forced  the  University  to  increase  the  difficulties. 
At  every  stage  examinations  have  to  be  passed,  and 
the  curricula  bristle  more  and  more  with  subjects. 
The  young  girls  who  aspire  to  the  Ecole  normale  lead 
the  same  life  as  the  candidates  for  the  technical 
schools.  The  same  anguish,  the  same  emotions,  the 
same  desperate  efforts  at  the  supreme  moment  of  the 
struggle ;  and  they  have  less  strength  to  bear  it 
Four  or  five  hundred  girls,  from  15  to  18  years  old, 
present  themselves  every  year  for  admission  to  the 


27^        EDUCATION  AND  HEREDITY. 

Ecole  normale  of  the  Department  of  the  Seine,  and  there 
are  only  twenty-five  vacancies.  As  the  pupils  in  this 
case  are  boarders,  and  all  expenses  are  defrayed,  and 
as  a  situation  in  the  primary  schools  of  the  depart- 
ment is  guaranteed  on  leaving,  we  may  imagine 
the  eagerness  displayed  in  the  competition  for 
admission. 

In  Paris,  where  the  new  laws  are  bearing  their  first 
fruit,  the  administration  annually  disposes  of  fifty 
places ;  there  are  already  three  thousand  applicants. 
What  will  become  of  the  nine-tenths  of  these  girls, 
whose  future  the  State  seemed  to  guarantee  when  it 
awarded  them  their  certificates  ?  It  must  undertake 
to  create  posts  for  women  everywhere  where  they  can 
with  advantage  replace  men,  which  is  now  of  rather 
frequent  occurrence.  They  must  be  awarded  a  larger 
share  in  primary  and  secondary  instruction.  Nothing 
stands  in  the  way  of  their  employment  in  post  offices, 
telegraph  offices,  etc.,  except  that  it  is  contrary  to 
custom.  It  is  desirable  that  more  employment  should 
be  found  for  women  in  industry  or  commerce.  First, 
competition  for  government  appointments  would 
become  less  keen :  we  should  not  have  to  fear  the  yearly 
increase  in  numbers  of  these  poor  girls  who,  having 
worked  in  vain,  are  without  resources,  and  who  have 
become  unclassed.  Many  a  tear  has  been  shed  for 
the  little  work-girl  in  her  garret.  The  teacher 
without  a  situation  and  without  hope  is  no  less  to  be 
pitied,  and  must  we  not  regret  the  new  laws  dealing 
with  instruction  of  girls  if  the  necessary  consequence 
is  that  they  "are  taken  from  their  own  rank  and 
made  into  governesses  "  ?  Instruction,  no  doubt,  is  an 
excellent  thing  when  it  prepares  us  for  the  work  we 
have  to  do,  but  it  ought  not  to  give  us  a  distaste  for  the 


THE   EDUCATION   OF   GIRLS   AND    HEREDITY.      2/3 

only  duties  which  fall  to  our  lot  and  are  within  our 
reach.  Education,  which  would  be  a  means  of  im- 
provement and  progress  if  things  were  well  managed, 
ought  not,  by  swelling  the  numbers  of  the  unclassed 
and  discontented,  to  become  a  cause  of  moral  corrup- 
tion and  social  disturbance.  If  the  instruction  so  much 
complained  of — of  which  we  fear  the  evil  effects — 
produce  bad  results,  it  is  because  it  is  not  what  it 
ought  to  be.  Instruction  should  be  of  such  a 
character  as  to  usher  and  lead  into  real  life, 
with  better  equipment  and  more  skill,  those  whom 
its  mission  was  to  prepare  for  that  life,  instead  of 
giving  them  a  distaste  for  it,  and  making  them  seek 
to  escape  from  it ;  less  refinement  in  the  ideas  is 
needed,  less  erudition  in  the  memory,  less  history  and 
literary  theories  ;  more  moral  and  aesthetic  ideas,  more 
manual  training,  more  energy  in  the  will,  more  practi- 
cal worldly  wisdom,  more  talent  for  invention. 

The  Berlin  Gegenwart  is  of  opinion  that  although 
the  education  of  German  girls  has  made  immense 
progress,  still  it  leaves  much  to  be  desired.  "  They 
are  taught  far  too  many  useless  things,  dates,  names, 
and  rules,  which  will  be  of  no  use  to  them  later,  while 
we  neglect  what  is  of  incomparably  greater  import- 
ance— to  form  and  develop  the  future  mother."  We 
turn  out  "walking  encyclopaedias,"  and  sometimes 
intellectual  women,  but  never  women  really  useful  to 
society. 

There  is  only  one  remedy  for  this  state  of  things — 
to  suppress  a  good  half  of  the  subjects  at  present  in 
the  curriculum,  and  to  substitute  for  them  subjects  of 
really  fundamental  importance. 

One  of  the  prejudices,  now  become  classical,  is 
to  assume  that  education  is   rigidly    bounded   by  a 

i8 


274  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

fixed  end  or  limit,  and  that  it  ends  in  an  examination, 
beyond  which  the  educator  has  nothing  to  desire, 
beyond  which  the  pupil  has  no  further  ambition. 
This  difficulty  is  far  more  apparent  in  the  case  of  the 
girl  than  of  the  boy,  for  if  the  examination  usually 
opens  out  a  career  to  the  latter,  it  is  generally 
perfectly  fruitless  to  the  former.  After  having  taken 
her  work  at  school  in  earnest,  and  devoted  herself  to 
it  heart  and  soul,  directly  she  has  left  school  the  girl 
feels  the  impulse  given  her  suddenly  checked  ;  hence 
a  void  in  her  life,  a  sudden  suppression  of  all  ambition 
but  that  of  coquetry,  of  all  recreation  but  the  gossip 
of  middle-class  society.  It  is  therefore  essential,  in 
the  case  of  both  sexes,  to  represent  education  as 
continuous,  uninterrupted,  and  to  be  ended  only  with 
life. 

There  should  be  no  time  when  we  cease  to  learn. 
Examinations,  which  are  only  a  rough  process  to 
ascertain  with  more  or  less  certainty  what  we  know, 
ought  especially  to  be  a  means  of  showing  us  what 
we  do  not  yet  know.  A  syllabus  is  only  good  as 
long  as  it  is  not  taken  too  much  in  earnest,  as  long 
as  it  is  not  a  barrier  to  the  student,  a  limit  to 
intellectual  growth.  Bodily  growth  continues  often 
after  twenty;  intellectual  growth  should  have  abso- 
lutely no  limit  but  death.  Inspire  children,  and 
especially  young  girls,  with  a  taste  for  reading,  study, 
works  of  art,  and  elevated  amusements  ;  this  taste  will 
be  worth  far  more  than  all  knowledge,  strictly  so 
called,  artificially  implanted  in  them  ;  instead  of  a 
mind  furnished  with  lifeless  knowledge,  you  will  have 
a  mind  at  once  living,  moving,  and  progressive. 
Instead  of  allowing  the  brain  to  become  atrophied  by 
excess  of  expenditure,  you   will  have  a  larger  and 


THE   EDUCATION   OF  GIRLS   AND   HEREDITY.      27 S 

larger  brain,  capable  of  transmitting  to  the  race 
loftier  moral  and  intellectual  dispositions,  and  that 
without  prejudice  to  what  is  the  basis  of  all  the  rest — 
physical  and  vital  energy. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

EDUCATION   AND   "ROTATION   OF  CROPS"   IN 
INTELLECTUAL  CULTURE. 

Danger  of  maintaining  a  race  under  the  same  social  conditions, 
especially  in  a  high  state  of  civilisation— Necessity  for  change  of 
occupation  and  environment — How  intellectual  superiority  may  be 
dangerous  to  a  race — "Rotation  of  crops"  in  intellectual  culture — 
The  choice  of  professions. 

The  prolonged  continuance  of  a  race  under  the  same 
social  conditions  is  generally  fatal  to  the  life  of  that 
race.  In  fact,  every  social  condition  involves  some- 
thing conventional,  and  if  the  sum  total  of  conven- 
tions is  opposed  to  the  healthy  development  of  life  in 
one  single  pointy  even  if  it  be  favourable  on  all  other 
points,  this  harmful  action,  increased  by  time,  will 
disequilibrate  the  race  with  a  certainty  proportional 
to  the  degree  of  its  adaptation  to  this  artificial 
environment.  The  result  will  be  insanity,  or  the 
extinction  of  the  race.  Accordingly,  since  it  is 
impossible  to  meet  with  a  social  environment  perfect 
in  every  detail  from  the  hygienic  point  of  view,  the 
only  hope  for  the  vitality  of  a  race  lies  in  a  change 
of  environment,  which  corrects  the  evil  influence  by 
influences  in  a  contrary  direction.  Improved  means 
of  communication,  by  facilitating,  so  to  speak,  com- 
bustion and  ventilation  in  the  great  social  furnaces, 
only  makes  the  danger  more  pressing.  One  of  the 
results  is  the  frightful  increase  of  madness  in  towns. 


EDUCATION   IN    INTELLECTUAL   CULTURE.     277 

There  are  530  cases  of  madness  to  every  100  of 
tubercular  meningitis.^  London,  in  this  respect, 
exceeds  the  average  by  39  per  cent.  Similarly, 
suicides  increase  in  number  daily:  the  suicides  at 
Paris  are  one-seventh  of  the  suicides  in  the  whole  of 
France,  and  those  of  the  Department  of  the  Seine  a 
tenth.  Excessive  strain  in  the  struggle  for  existence, 
toil  in  unhealthy  workshops,  alcoholism,  debauchery 
made  easy,  nervous  contagion,  an  impure  atmosphere 
— these  are  the  perils.  The  life  of  the  social  organism, 
like  that  of  all  other  organisms,  is  maintained  by 
combustion  ;  and  it  is  not  foreign  material  that  is 
burned  in  the  most  active  furnaces  of  life,  but  the 
living  cellules  themselves.  The  present  social  order 
creates  on  the  one  hand  an  idle  class,  on  the  other 
an  overworked  class,  and  holds  out  to  the  overworked, 
by  way  of  ideal,  the  state  of  the  idle — a  state  not 
altogether  to  be  envied.  To  do  nothing  leads  to 
wanting  everything,  without  having  the  power  of 
accomplishing  anything ;  hence  the  fundamental 
immorality  of  the  idle, — that  is  to  say,  of  a  whole 
class  of  society.  The  best  means  of  limiting  and 
regulating  passion  is  continuous  action  ;  and  at  the 
same  time  this  action  is  the  means  of  satisfying 
whatever  there  may  be  in  passion  reasonable  and 
conformable  to  social  laws. 

It  may  not  be  intellectual  superiority  in  itself  which 
is  dangerous  to  a  race,  for,  on  the  contrary,  this 
superiority  gives  the  race  an  advantage  in  natural 

^  There  is  a  general  opinion  that  there  is  more  tuberculosis  of  the 
lungs  in  the  insane  than  in  the  sane.  Dr.  Clouston  found  an  hereditary 
predisposition  to  insanity  in  seven  per  cent,  more  of  the  insane  who 
were  tubercular  than  in  the  insane  generally.  —  Vide  Maudsley, 
Mind  and  Body,  pp.  97-99. — Mercier,  Sanity  and  Insanity ,  pp.  184- 
233.     (Tr.) 


278        EDUCATION  AND  HEREDITY. 

selection.  The  danger  is  in  no  superiority,  whatever 
it  may  be,  but  in  the  temptations  of  every  kind  that 
superiorities  bring  in  their  train.  The  temptation 
most  difficult  to  resist  in  our  modern  society  is  that 
of  completely  exploiting  our  talents,  of  extracting 
from  them  every  particle  of  practical  profit,  and  of 
bartering  them  for  the  maximum  money  and  honour 
they  can  give.  It  is  this  unlimited  exploiting  of 
superiorities  which  renders  them  perilous.  The  fact 
is  so  incontestable  that  we  may  see  it  verified  in  the 
very  forms  of  superiority  which  seem  the  most  cer- 
tain guarantee  of  survival — those  of  physical  and 
muscular  strength.  If  a  man  is  so  remarkably  strong 
that  he  thinks  he  can  turn  his  strength  to  account 
and  become  an  athlete,  he  considerably  diminishes 
the  chances  of  existence  for  himself,  and  conse^ 
quently  for  his  race.  Physical  strength  is  blended 
to  some  degree  with  the  very  conditions  of  life  ;  but 
to  wish  to  exploit  the  conditions  of  life  is  to  alter 
them.  The  best  principle  of  all  moral  hygiene  would 
therefore  be  to  persuade  the  individual  to  spare  him- 
self, not  to  consider  any  talent  in  himself  or  his 
children  as  a  goose  laying  golden  eggs,  and  finally 
to  look  upon  life  as  having  to  be,  not  exploited^  but 
preserved,  increased,  and  propagated. 

The  consequence  of  this  principle  of  physiological 
economy  in  education  is  the  art  of  measuring  and 
directing  culture,  especially  intellectual  culture ;  of 
not  making  it  too  intense,  too  limited  to  a  single 
point  of  the  intellect,  but  of  always  proportioning  its 
extension  and  intension.  The  alternation  of  culture 
in  the  race  should  be  a  principle  of  no  less  import- 
ance. Rotation  of  crops  ought  to  be  as  elementary  a 
rule  in  education  as  in  agriculture,  for  it  is  absolutely 


EDUCATION  IN  INTELLECTUAL  CULTURE.  279 

impossible  to  successfully  cultivate  for  an  unlimited 
period  a  given  plant  in  the  same  soil,  or  a  given  apti- 
tude in  the  same  race.  Some  day  perhaps  a  distinc- 
tion will  be  drawn  between  the  occupations  likely  to 
exhaust  or  improve  a  race,  just  as  a  distinction  is 
drawn  between  plants  that  exhaust  or  improve  the 
soil.  The  most  healthy  occupation,  beyond  dispute, 
is  clearly  that  of  the  labourer  or  country  gentleman  ; 
and  the  way  to  preserve  a  succession  of  generations 
at  once  robust  and  brilliant  would  be  to  make  them 
live  alternately  a  town  and  country  life ;  to  make 
them  recuperate  in  the  vegetative  life  of  the  peasant 
whenever  they  are  exhausted  by  the  nervous  and 
intellectual  life  of  the  inhabitants  of  towns.  This 
ideal,  which  is  far  from  being  attained  in  France, 
might  be  easily  realised,  for  we  see  it  very 
often  in  England,  where  the  importance  of  landed 
property,  and  the  habits  of  a  life  a  little  less 
refined  than  ours,  make  the  English  aristocracy 
and  middle  class  pass  the  greater  part  of  their 
whole  existence  in  their  mansions  or  cottages,  and 
give  themselves  up  to  those  rural  occupations  which 
are  an  outlet  for  the  energy  of  the  whole  organisation. 
Without  in  the  least  wishing  to  trace  the  line  of 
conduct  to  be  followed  in  so  complex  a  juncture  as  the 
choice  of  a  profession,  I  think  that  it  is  the  educator's 
duty  never  to  press  the  son  to  follow  his  father's  pro- 
fession, at  least  whenever  that  profession,  as  that  of 
the  artist,  politician,  savant,  or  simply  man  of  business, 
or  man  of  eminence,  requires  very  considerable  nervous 
expenditure.  There  is  nothing  more  naive,  considered 
from  the  higher  point  of  view,  than  the  dread  of 
obscurity,  the  dread  of  being  "  a  nobody."  The  real 
qualities  of  a  race  are  not  lost  because  they  are  not 


28o  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

immediately  exposed  to  view  ;  on  the  contrary,  they 
accumulate,  and  genius  only  proceeds  from  the  boxes 
in  which  the  poor  have  day  by  day  hoarded  up  their 
talents  instead  of  squandering  them  in  follies.  It  is 
not  without  reason  that  the  Chinese  decorate  and 
ennoble  the  fathers  instead  of  the  sons ;  celebrated 
children  are  prodigal,  and  the  capital  they  expend 
is  not  theirs.  Nature  acquires  her  greatest  riches 
when  she  is  asleep.  Now,  in  our  impatience,  we 
cannot  sleep;  we  want  to  see  the  generations  always 
awake,  always  at  work.  Once  more,  the  only  way  of 
permitting  this  restless  effort  and  constant  expendi- 
ture to  continue  is  to  vary  it  incessantly ;  we  must 
resign  ourselves  to  our  sons  being  other  than  we  are, 
or  to  their  ceasing  to  exist. 

The  end  of  every  social  and  pedagogic  reform 
ought  not  to  be  the  decrease  in  human  society  of 
effort — that  essential  condition  of  all  progress — but 
on  the  contrary  the  increase  of  productive  effort  by  a 
better  organisation  and  distribution  of  forces,  as  we 
often  increase  the  amount  of  work  done  in  a  day  by 
reducing  the  hours  of  labour  from  twelve  to  ten. 
For  that  purpose  the  first  thing  to  be  done  is  to 
place  humanity,  and  especially  children,  under  better 
hygienic  conditions — the  sanitation  of  houses  and 
workshops,  decrease  of  mental  and  physical  labour, 
etc.  Secondly,  we  must  substitute  among  the  masses 
for  a  certain  space  of  time  well-directed  intellectual 
work  for  material  work.  Among  the  wealthy  classes 
a  minimum  of  material  work  must  counterbalance  the 
disequilibration  entailed  by  exclusively  intellectual 
work  or  by  idleness.  Unfortunately,  nowadays 
increase  of  social  foresight  is  produced  mainly  in 
economics,  and  economic  foresight  is  often  opposed 


EDUCATION   IN   INTELLECTUAL  CULTURE.      28 1 

to  really  social  and  hygienic  foresight.  Saving  a 
capital  of  money,  and  even  of  honours,  is  often  the 
exact  contrary  of  saving  health  and  strength  for  the 
race.  Take  the  case  of  a  poor  young  man  who 
hopes  to  get  married  as  soon  as  his  social  position  is 
sufficiently  improved,  and  who  overburdens  himself 
with  work  (examinations,  preparation  for  State 
schools,  etc.).  He  is  already  an  old  man  when  he 
marries,  with  an  overworked  nervous  system,  and 
with  a  constitution  best  adapted  for  the  degeneration 
of  his  race.  Further,  in  virtue  of  the  economic 
foresight  which  has  guided  him  hitherto,  he  will 
restrict  the  number  of  his  children — another  chance 
of  degeneration,  the  first-born  being  as  a  rule  far 
from  being  the  best  endowed.  The  conclusion  is 
that  there  is  often  an  antinomy  between  economic 
foresight,  which  has  two  terms — extreme  parsimony 
with  regard  to  money,  and  extreme  expenditure  with 
regard  to  strength — and  hygienic  or  moral  foresight, 
which  consists  in  sparing  one's  health,  and  only 
expending  strength  in  proportion  as  the  expendi- 
ture, rapidly  recuperated,  constitutes  exercise  and  not 
exhaustion. 

As  we  have  seen,  the  too  rapid  growth  of  economy, 
which  represents  a  certain  amount  of  physical  work 
thrown  out  of  employment,  is  always  dangerous 
in  a  race,  when  it  is  not  accompanied  by  a 
proportional  increase  of  intellectual  and  moral 
capacity,  which  permits  the  physical  strength  set 
free  by  economy  to  be  used  in  some  other 
way.  All  economy  of  material  wealth  may  be 
an  occasion  of  moral  prodigality.  True  progress 
consists  in  the  methodic  transformation  of  physical 
labour  into  well-regulated  intellectual  labour,  and  not 


282  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

in  the  cessation  or  decrease  of  work.  If  rotation  were 
properly  understood  and  applied,  the  social  ideal  would 
consist  in  an  absolute  and  increasing  production, 
whereas  the  purely  economical  ideal  is  only  the  decrease 
of  the  necessity  of  production,  which  generally  leads  to 
an  actual  decrease  in  production.  We  have  to  substitute 
for  the  external  necessities  (hunger  and  misery),  which 
have  hitherto  been  man's  taskmasters  and  have  often 
enforced  excessive  toil,  a  series  of  internal  necessities, 
of  intellectual  and  moral  needs,  corresponding  to  new 
capacities,  which  will  urge  him  to  regular  work  in 
proportion  to  his  strength.  This  would  be  the  trans- 
formation of  physical  effort  and  muscular  tension 
into  a  nervous  tension  and  attention^  but  into  attention 
regulated,  varied,  and  applied  to  different  objects, 
with  intervals  for  rest. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  AIM  OF  EVOLUTION  AND  EDUCATION.  IS  IT 
CONSCIOUSNESS,  OR  THE  AUTOMATISM  OF 
HEREDITY  ? 

Some  partisans  of  evolution,  pushing  to  an  extreme 
the  thesis  of  Maudsley  and  Ribot,  and  even  Spencer 
himself,  come  to  the  conclusion  that  the  most  elevated 
stage  of  perfection  for  man,  and  consequently  the 
most  perfect  type  of  the  moral  ideal,  and  the  aim  of 
education,  would  be  a  complete  state  of  automatism, 
in  which  intellectual  acts  and  the  most  complicated 
sentiments  would  be  alike  reduced  to  purely  reflex 
actions.  "  Every  conscious  act,"  they  say,  "  every 
thought,  every  sentiment,  presupposes  an  imperfec- 
tion, a  delay,  a  check,  a  want  of  organisation ;  if, 
therefore,  to  form  the  type  of  ideal  man  we  take  the 
quality  which  all  others  presuppose,  and  which  does 
not  itself  presuppose  any  other — viz.,  organisation — 
and  if  we  think  of  it  as  raised  to  the  highest  possible 
degree,  our  ideal  of  man  is  an  unconscious  automaton 
marvellously  complicated  and  unified."^  This  theory 
of  the  ideal  human  being  is,  in  my  opinion,  based 
upon  an  inaccurate  conception  of  the  world  and 
mind. 

Unconscious  automatism  could  only  be  the  perfect 
organisation  of  past  experiences  or  perceptions ;   but 

^  Paulhan,  "  Le  Devoir  et  la  Science  Morale,"  Reime  Philosophique^ 
December  1886. 


284  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

these  past  perceptions  cannot,  in  the  individual  and 
the  race,  entirely  coincide  with  future  perceptions, 
unless  we  suppose  that  man  is  placed  eternally  in  the 
same  environment — that  is  to  say,  that  the  world  is 
arrested  in  its  evolution.  Now,  such  a  cessation  of 
progress  is  neither  admissible  from  the  scientific,  nor 
desirable  from  the  practical,  point  of  view ;  it  offers 
none  of  the  characteristics  of  the  ideal.  Hence  the 
ideal  for  man  is  not  the  adaptation  to  his  environment 
once  for  all^  an  adaptation  which  would  in  fact  issue 
in  automatism  and  unconsciousness  ;  it  is  an  increasing 
facility  of  readaptation  to  the  changes  of  the  environ- 
ment, a  flexibility,  an  educability  which  is  nothing 
but  an  intellect  and  a  consciousness  ever  becoming 
more  perfect.  If,  in  fact,  adaptation  to  things  is  a 
work  of  unconscious  habit,  incessant  readaptation  is 
the  characteristic  of  the  conscious  intellect  and  of  the 
will,  the  work  of  education.  Consciousness  is  not 
purely  and  simply  an  arrested  reflex  action,  as 
contemporary  psychologists  so  often  define  it ;  it  is  a 
corrected  reflex  action,  brought  into  correspondence 
with  the  changes  of  the  environment,  wound  up 
anew  rather  than  stopped.  And  the  ideal  is  not  to 
suppress  this  readaptation  to  the  environment,  but  to 
make  it  continuous  by  the  conscious  prevision  of 
those  changes  that  may  bring  about  the  double 
evolution  of  the  man  and  the  world.  This  conscious 
prevision  will  suppress  shocks,  surprise,  and  anguish, 
increasing  the  part  played,  not  by  automatism,  but  by 
the  intellect ;  the  intellect  alone  can  prepare  us  for 
the  future,  and  can  adapt  us  to  the  partial  unknown 
of  time  and  space.  This  unknown,  although  not  yet 
present  with  us,  is  prefigured  by  ideas  and.  senti- 
ments ;  hence  a  moral  and  intellectual  environment, — 


AIM   OF   EVOLUTION   AND   EDUCATION.  285 

a  conscious  environment  from  which  we  cannot  escape, 
and  which  will  always  protect  us  from  automatism. 

It  is  very  superficial  to  suppose  that  science  and 
scientific  education  tend  to  automatism  because  they 
use  the  memory  for  the  storing  up  and  organising 
of  facts,  and  that  on  the  other  hand  the  memory, 
being  automatic,  reaches  its  perfection  in  unconscious 
recollection,  in  habit ;  in  other  words,  in  reflex 
action.  Science  would  thus  have  as  its  ideal 
routine  —  that  is,  its  own  antithesis.  We  forget 
that  science  is  not  constituted  merely  by  the 
knowledge  acquired,  but  by  the  manner  in 
which  this  knowledge  is  constantly  employed  to 
gain  further  knowledge  and  to  turn  it  into  new 
channels  of  action.  Progress  constantly  increases 
the  number  of  machines  and  instruments  at  man's 
disposal,  and  among  the  instruments,  knowledge 
organised  into  a  habit — Le.^  instruction — takes  the 
first  rank.  But  the  possession  of  machines  ever  more 
and  more  complicated  by  no  means  tends  to  turn 
man  into  a  machine ;  on  the  contrary,  the  more  the 
number  of  our  internal  and  external  instruments  is 
increased,  the  more  the  mass  of  our  unconscious 
perceptions  and  stored-up  knowledge  increases,  the 
greater  is  our  power  of  voluntary  attention  :  power 
and  consciousness  are  developed  simultaneously.  To 
think,  for  example,  that  the  role  of  the  unconscious  is 
larger  in  the  savant  than  in  the  peasant  would  be 
naive ;  unconsciousness  in  the  savant  is  no  doubt 
much  more  complicated,  presenting,  like  the  brain, 
countless  convolutions  and  windings,  but  the  con- 
sciousness is  at  the  same  time  developed  in  an 
even  greater  proportion.  In  a  word,  it  is  strange 
to  be  called    upon  to   prove   that   ignorance   alone, 


286  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

and  not  science,  is  routine.  As  the  sphere  of 
knowledge  widens,  and  the  points  of  contact  with 
the  unknown  increase,  it  follows  that  every 
adaptation  of  the  intellect  to  the  known  only 
makes  a  readaptation  to  more  extended  knowledge 
easier  and  more  necessary.  To  know  is  to  be  led  as 
a  whole  to  learn  more  and  to  be  able  to  do  more. 
That  is  why  curiosity  increases  with  knowledge  and 
instruction :  an  inferior  man  is  not  curious  in  the  real 
sense  of  the  word — curious  as  to  new  ideas  and 
higher  generalisations.  What  will  save  science  is 
what  has  constructed  it,  and  what  will  again  construct 
it — insatiable  curiosity.  And  although  science  tends 
to  make  more  and  more  use  of  habit  and  reflex  action, 
to  widen  its  substructure  in  the  unconscious,  as  we 
extend  the  foundations  of  a  lofty  building,  we  may 
assert  that  science  is  the  extending  and  luminous 
consciousness  of  the  human  race,  that  the  practical 
knowledge  and  power  of  man  will  always  be  measured 
by  his  power  of  inner  reflexion. 

M.  Ribot  maintains  that  our  pedagogy  is  based 
entirely  upon  a  colossal  blunder,  because  it  looks  for 
the  improvement  of  a  country  by  a  better  organisation 
of  education.  Action,  he  adds,  does  not  depend  upon 
the  intellect,  but  upon  the  will  and  sentiment,  and 
instruction  has  no  hold  on  one  or  the  other.  M. 
Fouillee,  on  the  contrary,  attributes  force  to  ideas, 
and  thinks  that  every  idea  corresponding  to  a  senti- 
ment tends  to  some  action.  In  the  same  way,  accord- 
ing to  M.  Espinas,  when  the  will  and  emotions  in  a 
people  are  affected  by  incurable  diseases — diseases 
connected  with  organic  waste  or  with  some  deeply 
rooted  change  of  temperament — in  that  case  it  is  no 
doubt  chimerical  to  hope  that  health  will  come  from 


AIM   OF   EVOLUTION    AND   EDUCATION.  287 

what  is  taught  at  school ;  but,  as  long  as  a  vestige  of 
hope  remains  (and  no  one  has  a  right  to  despair  of  his 
country),  if  an  effective  influence  can  be  exercised  on 
this  people,  if  its  will  can  become  strengthened,  and 
the  play  of  the  emotions  once  more  become  normal, 
it  is  by  ideas — true  ideas,  i.e.y  science — that  cure  and 
improvement  can  be  attained.^  Let  us  therefore 
examine  more  closely  the  rble  of  the  consciousness  in 
psychical  evolution  in  general,  and  moral  evolution  in 
particular. 

The  term   consciousness   is   used   to   designate   a 

*  "What  is  sentiment,"  says  M.  Espinas,  **if  it  be  not  the  excite- 
ment resulting  from  a  more  or  less  obscure  view  of  the  dangers  or  advan- 
tages which  may  accrue  to  us  ?  What  is  the  will,  however  instinctive 
we  suppose  it  to  be,  if  it  is  not  the  impulse  of  that  part  of  our  ideas  to 
which  heredity  or  habit  has  attached  the  strongest  sentiment  ?  Now, 
does  it  not,  in  a  certain  measure,  depend  upon  the  educator  to  give  to 
certain  ideas  a  preponderating  force,  by  showing  their  connection  with 
the  most  pressing  interests,  and  then  by  habit  to  bend  the  will  to  sub- 
mit to  the  influence  of  those  ideas  ?  And  may  not  the  character — nay, 
the  temperament — be  thus  modified  in  the  long  run,  as  far  as  the  vitality 
transmitted  to  the  race  permits  ?  If  this  be  untrue,  point  out  the  way 
to  act  directly  on  the  will  and  its  emotional  source  !  It  may  perhaps  be 
said  that  new  sentiments  may  be  aroused  by  the  communicated  emotion 
springing  from  inspired  speech,  by  example,  by  authoritative  accent  or 
gesture,  and  by  the  fine  arts ;  but  here  again  it  must  be  admitted  that 
poetry  and  eloquence  count  among  the  fine  arts,  that  the  accent  is  that 
of  a  voice  using  words,  that  example  is  interpreted  by  language,  that 
the  emotion  of  the  educator  moves  the  heart  of  the  disciple,  having  first 
reached  it  by  way  of  his  thoughts.  If  this  were  not  so,  we  should  be 
confronted  by  a  mysterious  pedagogy,  which  would  operate  in  silence 
like  grace,  and  would  abandon  teaching  and  take  to  praying.  The 
choice  must  be  made ;  we  must  either  try  to  modify  the  will  by  the 
idea,  or  give  up  trying  to  reform  the  will.  It  follows  that  to  bring 
up  youth,  to  institute  methods  of  education,  psychological  and  social 
science — i.e,^  the  exact  knowledge  of  the  laws  of  the  mind  and  the  con- 
ditions of  existence  under  which  it  moves — cannot  do  all  things,  but  it 
can  do  all  that  is  possible.  Science  will  turn  out  to  be  powerless  only 
where  there  will  be  no  room  for  its  application.  It  is  not  the  fault  of 
the  crow-bar  if  the  arm  that  wields  it  finds  it  too  heavy. " 


288  EDUCATION    AND   HEREDITY. 

mental  state  which,  in  its  physiological  conditions,  is 
certainly  more  complex  than  the  state  of  uncon- 
sciousness ;  this  state,  when  once  produced,  forms  a 
new  unit  of  force  (even  from  the  physiological  point 
of  view)  among  the  component  forces  acting  within 
us.  That  is  the  basis  of  the  theory  of  "  idea- 
forces,"  to  which  the  following  pages  are  a  con- 
tribution. 

A  conscious  phenomenon  does  not  act  absolutely 
in  the  same  way  in  the  chain  of  physiological 
phenomena  as  a  purely  unconscious  phenomenon, 
and  it  introduces  into  that  chain  a  new  force. 

In  fact : — 1st,  the  consciousness  is  primarily  a  more 
complete  organisation,  by  which  one  phenomenon 
becomes  attached  in  time  to  another  as  antecedent  or 
consequent.  The  idea  of  time  clearly  presupposes 
the  existence  of  consciousness.  Now,  there  is  no 
complete  organisation,  even  in  an  intellect  conceived  as 
purely  automatic,  apart  from  time,  which  introduces 
sequence  into  phenomena,  at  any  rate  apparently  of 
the  nature  of  empirical  causality.^  The  fact  that  we 
have  consciousness  allows  us  "to  recognise  pheno- 
mena as  having  occupied  a  clearly-defined  position 
among  other  states  of  consciousness." ^  In  fact,  it 
furnishes  us  with  the  essential  idea,  that  what  has 
been  done  once  may  be  done  again,  that  we  are 
capable  of  self-imitation,  self-differentiation,  or  self- 
modification. 

2nd.  The  consciousness,  constituting  a  better  or- 
ganisation, and  in  certain  respects  a  concentration  of 
psychical  phenomena,  also  constitutes  a  centre  of 
attraction  for  the  psychical  forces.     As  with  sidereal 

1  Vide  my  study  on  La  Genese  de  t Idie  de  Temps, 

2  Vide  M.  Ribot,  Maladies  de  la  M^moire, 


AIM   OF    EVOLUTION    AND    EDUCATION.  289 

matter,  which  attracts  in  proportion  to  its  condensa- 
tion into  a  nucleus,  so  with  the  mind.  Consciousness 
is  action  concentrated,  soHdified,  and,  in  a  measure, 
crystalHsed.  Further,  this  action  is  self-transparent : 
it  is  a  self-conscious  formula  ;  now  every  act  clearly 
formulated  ipso  facto  acquires  new  power  of  attraction 
and  selective  affinity.  Every  temptation  which  is 
vague  and  indeterminate  to  the  consciousness  is 
easily  overcome ;  when  it  is  determinate  and  formu- 
lated, and  assumes  the  outlines  of  a  conscious  act,  it 
may  become  irresistible.^ 

3rd.  The  consciousness  may  act  spontaneously  as 
a  general  exciting  influence  on  the  organism.  M. 
Fere  has  attempted  to  prove,  by  a  series  of  psycho- 
physiological experiments,  that  all  sensation  not 
painful  is  a  stimulant  of  energy.  If  we  thus  admit 
that  sensation  has  a  dynamogenic  power,  it  is  not 
illogical  to  admit  that  consciousness — which  underlies 
all  sensations,  and  which  is  in  its  origin  only  sensa- 
tion— shares  in  this  dynamogenic  power.  "  We  like 
sensations,"  said  Aristotle ;  if  we  like  them,  it  is 
because  they  seem  to  act  like  a  tonic  ;  but  we  also 
like  to  have  consciousness,  and  it  is  probable  that 
from  it  we  draw  an  immediate  advantage  in  general 
energy. 

4th.  The  consciousness  in  a  great  measure  simplifies 
what  I  shall  call  the  inner  circulation  and  course  of 
ideas,  and  their  relations  one  w^ith  another,  which  make 
it  possible  to  compare  and  classify  them. 

As  the  idea  constitutes  the  life  of  the  intellect,  it 
also  constitutes  the  life  of  the  will,  which  is,  properly 
speaking,  moral  life.  The  force  of  an  idea,  in  fact,  is 
in  direct  ratio  to  the  number  of  states  of  consciousness 

'  Cf.  the  previous  chapter  on  "Suggestion." 

19 


290  EDUCATION    AND   HEREDITY. 

the*  idea  is  able  to  dominate  and  regulate.  When 
a  man  acts  conformably  to  an  idea,  his  sense  of  that 
intellectual  and  regulative  force  will  be  inversely  pro- 
portional to  the  purely  blind  and  physical  impulse  to 
action  prompting  him  at  the  same  moment.  Now, 
action,  according  to  the  ideas  is  ipso  facto  will — i.e.^  the 
commencement  of  moral  life.  Thanks  to  the  idea, 
all  action  is  immediately  formulated  within  the 
mental  presence-chamber  of  the  moral  agent,  and 
classed  by  him  ;  it  spontaneously  takes  its  place  in 
the  series  of  states  of  consciousness  characterised  by 
this  or  that  general  tone  of  emotion  or  sensation,  while 
the  individual  and  objective  features  of  the  action  are 
considered  of  secondary  importance.  This  classifica- 
tion becomes  by  force  of  habit  almost  instantaneous: 
it  takes  place  in  the  somnambulistic  sleep  as  w^ell  as 
in  the  waking  state.  To  think  of  an  action  is  to 
have  already  summarily  judged  it,  to  feel  oneself 
attracted  or  repelled  by  the  whole  group  of 
tendencies  with  which  it  is  connected.  The  common 
characteristic  of  very  primitive  races  and  children 
of  an  early  age  is  the  want  of  constancy  and 
permanency  in  the  moral  impulses ;  or,  in  other  and 
better  words,  they  do  not,  as  a  rule,  feel  a  constant 
impulse  to  action  ;  and  almost  all  those  impulses 
which  do  issue  in  action  assume  the  intermittent 
character  of  physical  wants,  such  as  hunger,  thirst, 
etc.;  even  love  itself,  as  an  exclusive  and  insatiable 
passion,  does  not  exist  in  them.  All  their  emotions 
are  transient.  It  follows  that  they  can  only 
exceptionally  feel  the  influence  of  an  idea-force, 
the  dictate  of  an  "  obligation."  What  we  call  the 
moral  sentiments  are  not  absolutely  wanting,  but 
they  only  act  at  the  moment ;  in  fact,  primitive  man 


AIM   OF   EVOLUTION    AND   EDUCATION.  29I 

has  moral  caprices,  but  no  organised  morality :  it  is 
much  easier  for  him  to  be  heroic  than  straightforward 
and  equitable.  And  these  caprices,  whether  satisfied 
or  not  satisfied,  tend  to  extinction,  without  leaving 
any  deep  trace  in  him,  because  whatever  prevents 
him  from  exerting  self-restraint  under  the  pressure  of 
an  emotional  impulse,  also  prevents  him  from  detain- 
ing this  impulse  when  present  to  his  mind ;  his 
thoughts  wander,  because  he  is  powerless  and 
incapable  of  effort :  his  consciousness  is  not  complex 
enough  for  these  emotional  influences  to  counteract  each 
other  for  long,  so  as  to  avert  immediate  expenditure 
and  exhaustion  of  energy  in  spontaneous  movements. 
He  does  not  know  what  a  line  of  conduct  is,  and  he 
will  only  learn  it  by  a  very  slow  evolution. 

The  progress  which  gradually  substitutes  the  reign 
of  tenacious  and  harmonised  impulses  for  this  reign 
of  caprice,  of  transient  and  discordant  impulses,  tends 
to  form  the  character;  and  it  is  this  progress  which 
also  tends  to  the  formation  of  morality.  To  have 
character  is  to  conform  one's  conduct  to  certain 
empirical  or  theoretical  rules,  to  certain  idea-forces, 
which  may  be  good  or  bad,  but  which  always  intro- 
duce harmony,  beauty,  and  moral  worth. 

To  have  character  is  to  experience  an  impulse  so 
strong  and  regular  in  its  power  as  to  subordinate  all 
others  to  itself  In  the  individual  such  an  impulse 
may  be  more  or  less  anti-social  ;  we  may  have 
character,  and  so  may  present  a  certain  inward  beauty 
and,  ipso  facto,  present  an  elementary  morality  with 
a  regulated  conduct,  and  nevertheless  be  but  one  of 
the  *'unclassed"  in  the  race — perhaps  a  brigand. 
On  the  other  hand,  when  we  have  to  deal  with 
a  race,  especially  with    the  human  race  in    general, 


292  EDUCATION    AND   HEREDITY. 

the  character  and  the  triumph  of  the  social  instincts 
ought  in  the  main  to  coincide,  for  selection  excludes 
every  individual  realising  an  anti-social  type  of  con- 
duct. The  poem  of  life  excludes  a  Manfred  and  a 
Lara  ;  it  may  at  the  present  day  be  safely  asserted 
that  men  who  have  the  most  will  have  the  best  will ; 
that  the  best  co-ordinated  lives  are  the  most  moral; 
that  the  most  admirable  characters  from  the  aesthetic 
point  of  view  are  also,  as  a  rule,  the  most  admirable 
from  the  moral  point  of  view ;  that,  in  fact,  the  reign 
of  morality  is  more  or  less  partially  established  within 
us  as  soon  as  we  are  able  to  establish  any  authority 
or  subordination  within  ourselves. 

Consciousness,  therefore,  is  not  only  a  complication, 
but,  from  certain  points  of  view,  a  simplification ;  that 
is  why  it  came  into  being,  and  that  is  why  it  cannot 
disappear  before  the  progress  of  mechanical  organi- 
sation. We  may  form  for  ourselves  an  impressive 
picture  of  the  struggle  of  unconscious  tendencies  and 
impulses,  by  representing  it  as  a  hand-to-hand  con- 
flict between  men  fighting  blindly  in  the  dark :  the 
day  breaks,  discloses  the  respective  conditions  of  the 
armies,  and  at  one  stroke  decides  the  battle.  Even 
though  the  result  were  the  same,  it  is  greatly 
furthered,  and  a  considerable  expenditure  of  energy 
and  life  is  thus  avoided  :  and  this  is  precisely  what 
happens  when  consciousness  brings  to  light  the 
obscure  struggle  of  the  propensities.  It  shows  us  the 
respective  powers  of  each — a  power  in  most  cases 
proportional  to  the  generality  of  ideas  represented 
by  each  propensity — and  it  spares  us  from  being 
inwardly  torn  and  harassed  by  useless  struggles. 
It  should  also  be  noticed  that  unconsciousness, 
like     "  darkness,"    is    always    a    relative     term  ;    as 


AIM   OF    EVOLUTION   AND   EDUCATION.  293 

there  is  light  in  every  shade,  so  it  is  probable  that 
there  are  everywhere  lower  phases  of  consciousness. 
If  the  idea  does  not,  properly  speaking,  create  force, 
it  economises  it  to  a  great  extent.  Bwt  it  is  perhaps 
not  enough  to  say  merely  that  it  accelerates  the 
result ;  the  idea  may  modify  the  relation  of  the  forces. 
The  influence  of  an  idea,  or,  to  use  a  physiological 
expression,  of  a  certain  vibration  of  the  brain,  is 
habitually  proportional  to  the  number  of  states  of  the 
nervous  system  by  which  it  is  escorted.  Now,  for  an 
unconscious  being  to  experience  this  force  belonging 
to  an  idea,  it  has  actually  to  pass  through  the 
whole  series  of  successive  modifications  of  the 
nervous  system  in  which  the  vibration  in  question  is 
manifested.  On  the  other  hand,  when  the  conscious- 
ness intervenes,  it  is  enough  to  imagine  these  states 
to  immediately  grasp  the  real  force  of  the  idea.  Now 
we  see  what  simplification  the  consciousness  implies. 
It  is  the  future  become  present ;  it  is  the  period  in 
which  the  collective  results  of  evolution  are  concen- 
trated in  a  moment.  Thought  is  evolution  condensed 
in  some  way  or  other.  We  may  consider  an  idea  as 
the  abstraction  of  a  sentiment,  and  sentiment  as  an 
abstraction  of  sensation,  and  finally  sensation  as  an 
abstraction  and  a  scheme  of  a  very  general  objective 
state,  of  a  kind  of  vital  nisus  more  or  less  indeter- 
minate in  itself^  Thus,  by  a  series  of  successive 
abstractions,  each  of  which  is  at  the  same  time  a 
determination  (for  the  abstract  has  its  outlines  always 
more  simply  defined  than  the  concrete,  and  the 
difference  between  them  is  exactly  the  difference 
between    a   sketch    and    a    painting),   we    rise    from 

^  Sensation  is  here  used  as  equivalent  to  painful  or  pleasurable  feel- 
ing produced  by  sensory  stimulation.     (Tr.) 


294  EDUCATION   AND   HEREDITY. 

more  or  less  shapeless  life  to  the  most  definite 
thought,  and  all  progress  toward  the  abstract  marks 
an  economy  of  force,  a  simplification  of  the  internal 
mechanism,  in  that  "  shifting  and  living  number " 
which  constitutes  life,  and  which  Plato  called  xpvxr}. 
Thought  is  the  algebra  of  the  world  ;  and  this  algebra 
has  made  possible  the  most  complex  mechanism,  has 
placed  the  most  colossal  power  in  the  hands  of  man. 
The  progress  of  evolution  is  measured  by  the  increas- 
ing share  taken  in  it  by  the  abstract  as  compared 
with  the  concrete.  The  more  the  concrete  is  dis- 
solved, effaced,  subtilised,  the  more  it  gives  place 
to  regular  outlines ;  thought,  as  such,  is  but  a 
sketch ;  but  by  refining  this  sketch  we  approxi- 
mate to  the  ideal  masterpiece  that  nature  strives 
to  attain.  Every  line  clearly  fixed  in  the  con- 
sciousness becomes  a  possible  direction  in  action, 
and  every  possibility  is  a  force.  So  abstract 
thought, — the  supreme  object  of  intellectual  in- 
struction,— which  appears  to  be  the  most  estranged 
from  the  domain  of  vital  forces,  may  nevertheless  be 
a  very  great  force  under  certain  relations,  and  may 
even  become  the  supreme  force,  provided  that  it 
marks  the  straightest  line  and  that  of  least  resistance. 
The  paths  traced  out  in  the  world  by  thought  are 
like  the  broad  thoroughfares  we  see  from  a  height 
like  bands  across  a  large  town  :  at  first  they  seem 
empty,  but  presently  the  eye  distinguishes  swarming 
life :  they  are  the  arteries  of  the  town,  through  which 
the  most  intense  circulation  goes  on. 

If  there  be  in  the  very  consciousness  of  a  pheno- 
menon a  certain  additional  force,  increasing  the 
anterior  force  peculiar  to  that  phenomenon,  it  follows 
that     "  idea-forces "     really    do     exist.      We     must 


AIM   OF   EVOLUTION    AND   EDUCATION.  295 

understand  by  idea-force  that  surplus  force  added  to  an 
idea  by  the  mere  fact  of  its  reflexion  in  consciousness, 
having  for  its  physical  correlative  a  surplus  motor 
force.  The  surplus  force  is  the  result  of  a  comparison 
of  the  idea  with  others  present  in  consciousness.  This 
confronting  of  ideas,  this  inner  balancing,  is  enough 
to  make  some  rise  and  others  sink.  Those  which  tend 
to  gain  the  mastery  are  always  : — 1st.  The  most 
general  ideas,  and  therefore  those  most  often  asso- 
ciated with  the  greatest  number  of  other  ideas,  instead 
of  being  repelled  by  them  ;  the  idea-force  is  therefore 
the  force  of  which  the  power  is  proportional  to  its 
degree  of  rationality  and  consciousness,  and  which 
does  not  borrow  that  power  from  the  domain  of 
unconscious  habits,  but  from  its  relation  to  other 
conscious  ideas — from  its  very  generality.  2nd.  The 
most  effective  ideas,  which  awaken  the  most  active 
sentiments  without  provoking  by  opposition  any 
depressive  state.  From  these  two  laws  follows  a 
simplification  of  inward  difficulties  to  the  advantage 
of  the  most  general  or  the  most  emotional  ideas. 

From  the  preceding  considerations  ensues  the 
confirmation  not  of  the  impotence  of  ideas,  but  of 
the  power  of  ideas  and  education.  Thus,  far  from 
every  perfect  organisation  having  to  issue  in  the 
unconscious,  it  is  impossible  to  picture  to  oneself  a 
perfect  and  yet  unconscious  organisation.  The  state 
of  consciousness  acts  as  a  link  interposed  in  partly 
"unconscious  "  reasonings,  which  may  operate  during 
an  eclipse  of  the  inner  illumination. 

In  higher  species  the  evolution  and  education  of  the 
individual  consciousness  is  much  more  vast  and  com- 
plex, and  is  also  much  longer  and  more  continuous;  it 
extends  to  the  farthest  limits  of  life.    One  of  the  traits 


296  EDUCATION   AND  HEREDITY. 

characterising  man  as  compared  with  the  animal,  and 
the  civilised  man  as  compared  with  the  savage,  is  that 
his  intellect  is  longer  capable  of  new  acquisitions,  is  not 
checked  in  its  growth,  and  does  not  close  in  upon  the 
knowledge  acquired,  as  certain  plants  close  in  upon 
the  insects  they  stifle.  In  the  same  way,  one  of  the 
essential  traits  characterising  the  man  of  genius, 
according  to  Galton  and  Sully,  is  that  his  intellect, 
more  perfect  than  the  average,  has  a  longer  evolution. 
Genius  produces  both  sooner  and  later  ;  the  brain  of  a 
great  man  is  fatigued  less  rapidly  than  his  limbs  ;  his 
fecundity  is  not  suspended — it  lasts  up  to  the  grave  : 
being,  as  it  were,  less  prone  to  death,  he  is  less  con- 
scious of  its  approach.  The  evolution  of  the  human 
consciousness,  therefore,  tends  in  the  higher  types  of 
humanity  to  fill  the  whole  of  existence.  Thus  nature 
ever  tends  to  diminish  the  long  night  of  unconscious 
childhood  and  imbecile  old  age  which  is  to  be  found 
in  the  lower  stages  of  humanity.  Further,  when  we 
see  the  limits  of  fecundity  and  education  recede  for 
the  human  consciousness,  it  may  not  be  anti-scientific 
to  hope  that  perhaps  one  day,  after  many  ages  have 
passed  away,  the  limits  of  its  existence  may  also 
recede  ;  that  the  brain  will  have  more  vitality  than 
the  rest  of  the  body.  Not  only  by  its  most  universal 
and  impersonal  ideas,  but  by  the  very  curve  of  its 
evolution,  by  the  ever-increasing  power  and  duration 
of  its  inward  fecundity,  the  human  consciousness  will 
tend  more  and  more  to  bring  in  its  train  a  wider 
immortality. 


APPENDIX. 


ARTIFICIAL   MODIFICATIONS   OF  CHARACTER  IN 
INDUCED    SOMNAMBULISM. 

Letter  to  the  Editor  of  the  "  Revue  PhilosophiqueP 

February  1883. 
I   send   you  a  few  reflexions — suggested   by  an   important 
article  of  M.  Richet's — on  artificial  modifications  of  the  moral 
character  and  moral  tendencies  in  induced  somnambulism. 

L 

M.  Richet  treats  of  two  questions — amnesia  of  the  person- 
ality, and  unconscious  memory. 

To  completely  demonstrate  "amnesia  of  the  personality  " Tn 
cases  of  induced  somnambulism,  we  must  effectually  prove 
amnesia  of  the  moral  character^  the  essential  mark  of  the 
personality;  this  transformation  of  character  is  only  partially 
produced  in  the  well-known  case  quoted  by  Dr.  Azam,  but  I 
can  find  it  nowhere  in  the  researches  of  M.  Richet — that  is  to 
say,  presented  in  a  sufficiently  formal  manner.  For  instance,  I 
should  have  been  better  satisfied  if,  when  transforming  Mme. 

A into  a  general,  he  had  placed  before  her  some  moral 

alternative,  and  had  given  her  the  choice  of  two  honourable 
posts,  one  of  which  was  a  post  of  almost  certain  death  ;  we  then 
should  have  seen  if  feminine  timidity  would  have  prevailed.  It 
seems  to  me  extremely  probable  that  many  somnambulists, 
playing  the  same  rdle  again  and  again,  would  act  differently 
under  the  same  circumstances,  according  to  sex,  education, 
habits,  etc.  Probably  the  married  woman  of  whom  M.  Richet 
speaks  would  not  have  acquitted  herself  in  her  role  of  sailor 
with  the  same  crudity  of  expression  as  the  second  patient :  she 

19-1 


298  APPENDIX. 

would  probably  have  displayed  hesitation  in  certain  scenes  of 
rough  action.  In  other  words,  the  old  personality  ought  not  to 
disappear  totally  and  give  place  to  a  personality  dropped  from 
the  clouds ;  the  newly-awakened  tendencies  are,  doubtless,  only 
a  co7nposition  of  forces  pre-existing  in  the  organism,  with  the 
new  impulse  implanted  by  the  will  of  the  magnetiser. 

Perhaps  M.  Richet  may  have  gone  too  far  in  drawing  a  fine 
distinction  between  the  "drama  actually  lived"  by  somnambu- 
lists and  the  drama  composed  by  dramatic  authors,  or  played 
by  actors.  Poets  or  musicians  of  a  very  impressionable  and 
nervous  temperament  have  really  lived  the  roles  they  com- 
posed. Weber  believed  he  saw  the  devil  when  he  summoned 
him  in  his  music ;  Shelley  had  hallucinations ;  Flaubert 
(according  to  M.  Taine)  had  the  taste  of  arsenic  in  his  mouth 
when  he  was  describing  the  poisoning  of  M.  Bovary;  Malibian 
at  times  thought  she  was  Desdemona.  In  the  same  way,  in 
our  dreams,  we  are  each  of  us  transformed  into  another  human 
being,  or  even  a  horse,  or  a  bird,  etc.  Even  in  waking  life  there 
are  always  within  us,  as  in  Maitre  Jacques,  several  personalities, 
whom  the  mere  changing  of  garments  may  successively  arouse. 
The  very  timbre  of  the  voice,  which  is  so  closely  connected  with 
the  personality,  is  changed  in  a  most  remarkable  way  as  we 
pass  from  one  role  to  another,  and  a  person  has  not  the  same 
tone  of  voice  in  a  drawing-room  as  in  the  bosom  of  his  family. 
If  the  proverb,  "  You  never  know  a  man  until  you  have  eaten  a 
bushel  of  salt  with  him,"  is  eternally  true;  it  is  because,  to  know 
a  man  thoroughly,  we  must  have  seen  him  play  successively 
every  role  in  the  drama  of  life.  It  is  none  the  less  certain  that 
in  the  case  of  persons  differing  in  the  widest  degree,  each 
preserves  intact  the  sum  total  of  hereditary  and  acquired  ten- 
dencies which  are  his  alone,  and  which  constitute  his  indi- 
viduality— his  character.  Whether  these  instincts  are  latent 
and  completely  unconscious  (as  in  dreams  and  somnambulism), 
or  remain  vaguely  conscious  (as  sometimes  happens  in  the 
waking  state),  is  of  secondary  importance,  provided  they  exist 
and  operate.  Maitre  Jacques  is  still  Maitre  Jacques,  whether 
he  be  coachman  or  cook;  he  will  even  entirely  forget  the  former 
part  while  playing  the  latter  ;  but  he  will  no  more,  on  that 
account,  lose  all  the  traits  of  his  moral  character,  or  his  inward 
features,  than  he  will  absolutely  change  the  features  of  his 
face.     We  are  never  conscious  of  all  our  being,  and  it  is  easy  to 


APPENDIX.  299 

understand  that  in  certain  cases  of  delirium  this  always  very 
limited  consciousness  is  still  more  narrowly  limited  so  as  to 
include  only  the  provisional  personality  assigned  to  the  patient 
at  the  time.  But  the  totality  of  the  person  and  of  the  character 
still  subsist  in  penumbra,  and  it  remains  a  constant  cause  of 
internal  phenomena.  When  the  fog  covers  the  sea,  and  a 
small  ray  of  light,  piercing  a  cloud,  falls  on  the  moving  waters, 
the  circumscribed  spot  illuminated  by  it  seems  to  move 
spontaneously,  and  to  be  something  distinct,  separate,  and 
independent;  but  in  reality  this  spot  borrov^rs  the  quivering  of 
its  surface  from  the  undulating  movement  of  the  whole  ocean. 
Thus  the  habitual  tendencies  of  our  moral  character  and 
personality  ought  to  be  re-discovered,  even  in  the  most 
manifest  disturbances  which  seem  to  suppress  them.  M.  Richet 
wishes  to  establish  a  distinction  between  the  personality  and 
the  ego,  so  as  to  reduce  the  former  exclusively  to  a  pheno- 
menon of  the  memory;  but  does  not  he  himself  admit  of 
unconscious  memory  in  the  waking  state  ?  This  memory  ought 
also  to  exist  in  the  somnambulistic  state,  and  to  closely  link 
together  the  different  phases  of  transformation  ;  moreover,  this 
memory  is  largely  conscious  ;  is  there  not  in  every  instance 
quoted  a  memory  of  words,  and  therefore  of  ideas  and  impres- 
sions, and  will  not  those  impressions  always  bear  the  specific 
mark  of  the  individuality?  It  is  probable  that  we  may  even 
find  in  every  somnambulist,  as  in  every  writer,  a  kind  of 
personal  style^  and  "  the  style  is  the  man."  The  sum  total  of 
mechanical  phenomena,  which  are  the  basis  of  the  individual 
from  the  scientific  point  of  view,  cannot  suddenly  vanish  ;  new 
combinations  are  produced,  but  there  is  nothing  which  could 
resemble  creation. 

II. 

What  are  certainly  more  remarkable  in  the  cases  quoted  by 
M.  Richet  are  the  instances  of  unconscious  memory  which 
recall  the  marvellous  and  terrible  legends  about  Cagliostro.  In 
these  examples  M.  Richet  seems  to  have  been  able  to  create  in 
every  detail,  by  means  of  an  external  command,  an  inner 
tendency,  a  propensity  persisting  in  shadow  after  the  return  to 
the  waking  state,  and  in  some  measure  imposing  itself  on  the 
will  of  the  patient.     In  these  curious  cases,  the  dream  of  the 


300  APPENDIX. 

somnambulist  seems  still  to  dominate  him  and  direct  his  life 
after  he  is  awake.  The  inverse  had  been  noticed  long  ago.  It 
had  been  observed  that  we  each  can,  more  or  less,  regulate  our 
sleep,  and  in  a  certain  measure  control  our  dreams,  and  fix 
beforehand  the  hour  of  awaking.  In  my  own  case,  I  have 
often  noticed  this  influence  of  the  will  over  dreams  —  an 
influence  quite  unconscious  during  the  dream  itself,  and  never- 
theless easier  to  ascertain  when  awake  ;  I  have  very  often  half 
awakened  myself  in  the  midst  of  melancholy  dreams  ;  I  have 
willed  to  change  their  direction,  and  resuming  the  thread  of 
the  same  dream  I  have  known  it  become  cheerful. 

I  think  that  here  is  a  fertile  source  of  experiment  which  is 
very  curious  and  very  important  in  the  study  of  instincts.^  In 
fact  the  commands  of  the  magnetiser  seem  to  arouse  in  the 
midst  of  all  the  instincts  of  the  being,  a  new  tendency,  a  nascent 
artificial  instinct. 

The  most  curious  case  related  by  M.  Richet  is  in  a  previous 
article  (October  1880).  It  is  about  a  woman  who  was  naturally 
a  very  small  eater.  One  day,  during  her  sleep,  M.  Richet  told 
her  she  must  make  heartier  meals.  When  she  awoke,  she  had 
entirely  forgotten  the  injunction  ;  however,  a  few  days  after, 
the  hospital  nurse  took  M.  Richet  aside  and  told  him  she  could 
not  understand  the  change  that  had  been  effected  in  the  patient. 
"Now,"  she  said,  "she  is  always  asking  for  more  food  than  I 
give  her."  If  this  case  has  been  accurately  observed,  this  is 
not  only  the  carrying  out  of  a  particular  command,  but  an 
unconscious  impulse  closely  akin  to  natural  instinct.  In  fact 
every  instinct,  natural  or  moral,  is  derived,  as  Cuvier  points  out, 
from  a  kind  of  somnambulism,  because  it  gives  an  order  of 
which  we  do  not  know  the  reason.  We  hear  the  "  voice  of 
conscience"  without  knowing  from  whence  it  comes.  To  vary 
the  experiment,  the  patient  should  have  been  ordered  not  only 
to  eat,  but,  for  example,  to  get  up  early  in  the  morning,  and  to 
work  hard.  We  might  eventually  modify  in  this  way  the  moral 
character  of  individuals,  and  induced  somnambulism  might 
assume  an  important  place,  as  a  means  of  action,  in  the  moral 
hygiene  of  humanity.^  All  these  tempting  hypotheses  remain 
pending  till  the  observations  of  M.  Richet  have  been  confirmed 
with  sufficient  scientific  accuracy. 

^  These  experiments  have  since  been  made. 
^  Education  and  Heredity f  okdiT^,  i. 


APPENDIX.  301 

If  these  experiments  are  confirmed,  we  might  go  further  still, 
and  try  if  it  be  not  possible  to  annihilate,  by  a  series  of  repeated 
commands,  this  or  that  natural  instinct.  It  is  said  that  a  som- 
nambulist may  be  made  to  lose  her  memory — for  example,  her 
memory  for  names ;  we  may  even,  according  to  M.  Richet, 
destroy  the  whole  memory  {Revue  Philosophique^  Nov.  1880); 
he  adds — "the  experiment  should  be  attempted  with  every 
possible  precaution;  I  have  seen  such  terror  and  disorder  in 
the  intellect  supervene  in  a  case  of  this  kind,  lasting  for  about 
a  quarter  of  an  hour,  that  I  would  not  willingly  repeat  this 
dangerous  experiment."  If,  with  most  psychologists,  we  iden- 
tify memory  with  habit  and  instinct,  we  should  imagine  it 
impossible  to  provisionally  annihilate  in  the  somnambulist  this 
or  that  instinct,  even  those  of  the  most  fundamental  character — - 
such  as  the  maternal  instinct,  etc.  Next,  we  ought  to  ascertain 
if  this  suppression  of  the  instinct  leaves  traces  when  the  som- 
nambulist is  awakened.  We  might  in  all  cases  try  the  experi- 
ment on  hereditary  habits  or  manias ;  we  might  try  if  a  series 
of  orders  or  admonitions  repeatedly  given  during  sleep  could 
diminish,  for  example,  delusions  of  grandeur  or  of  persecution. 
In  other  words,  we  should  try  to  counteract  a  natural  by  an 
artificial  mania.  In  this  way  somnambulism  would  be  a  richer 
field  than  madness  for  moral  and  psychological  observations. 
Both  are  derangements  of  the  mental  mechanism ;  but  in 
induced  somnambulism  the  derangement  may  be  measured 
and  regulated  by  the  magnetiser. 

We  might  conceive  of  an  operation  on  the  intellect  and 
moral  sense  analogous  to  the  operation  for  strabismus  :  the 
squint  is  cured,  not  by  strengthening  the  weaker  muscles,  but 
by  relaxing  those  with  sometimes  more  than  their  normal 
powers.  However  that  may  be,  the  facts  given  by  M.  Richet, 
if  the  result  of  accurate  observation,  certainly  indicate  a  new 
method  of  research,  and  perhaps  a  new  means  of  action  on  the 
human  will,  at  least  in  its  morbid  state. 


INDEX, 


Aboulia,  25 

Act,  voluntary,  64 

Action,  representation  of  reflex,  49, 

53  . 
Adaptation,  49 
Adults,  hypnotising  of,  17 
Esthetics,  200 
Aideism,  23 
Alcoholism,  9 

Anarchic  schools  of  Tolstoi,  190 
Anomia,  religious,  185 
Arnold,  Matthew,  121 
Art,  210 
Assaults,    evidence   of    children   in 

cases  of  indecent,  23 
Atavism,  99 
Athletics   and    morality,    122,    vide 

Physical  Exercise 
drovia,  moral,  93 
Attention,  165,  282 
Authority,  power  of,  explained,  16 
Automatism,  283  e^  seq. 
Auto-suggestions,  vide  Suggestion 

Beaunis,  7 

Belgium,   conditional   franchise   in, 

199 
Bentham,  182 
Bernheim,  55 
Bersot,  124,  141,  247 
Binet,  20 
Bluntschli,  198 
Boarding-schools,  113 

morality  in,  115 

scholarships,  125 
Boarding-out  system,  125 
Brahminism,  31 
Braine,  3 


Breal,  122,  126,  254 
Buddhism,  60 

Caravaftes  scolaireSj  153 
Ceremony,  origin  and  value  of,  52 
Chad  wick,  Sir  Edwin,  134 
Children,  bad-tempered,  41 

corporal  punishment,  35 

evidence  in  courts  of  law,  23 

fiction  natural  to,  203 

generalisations  of,  203 

assume  their  good  qualities,  26 

hypnotisable,  23 

auto-suggestion  in,  23,  26 

imagination  of,  201,  213 

impositions  and  tasks,  29,  139 

lying  of,  205 

love  for  parents,  87 

punishments,  29,  37,  38,  139 

remorse  in,  41,  76,  91 

will  to  be  trained,  not  broken,  34 
Chinese,  wisdom  of,  31,  33,  183 
Choice,  liberty  of,  61 
Civic  instruction,  197  et  seq. 
Classics,  the,  235 
Collins,  Wilkie,  120 
Commission  on  Hygiene,  Report  of, 

139,  141 

Competition,    249,    271,   281,    vide 
Hygiene 

Confucius,  morality  of,  31 

Consciousness,  284,  287-296 
and  pain,  50 
power  of,  60 
of  impulsive  force,  co 
the  result  of  a  struggle,  70 
of  solidarity,  33,  40,  82,  83 

Corporal  punishment,  35 

Cottinet,  153 


304 


INDEX. 


Coubertin,  149 
Coulanges,  Fustel  de,  241 
Cramming,  218,  258 
Cramp,  writer's,  138 
Crime,  100 

effect  of  education  on,  179 

second  offences,  27 
Criminals,  characteristics  of,  13 
Crops,  rotation  of,  277  et  seq. 
Culture,  74 
Cuvier,  6 

D'Alembert,  104 

Darwin,  80,  82,  98 

Day  Schools,  Hygienic  blunders  in, 

139 

Delboeuf,  6,  18 
Depravity,  moral,  95 
Descartes,  176 
Desires,  68 
Development,  of  idea,  7 

physical,  160 

moral,  161 

intellectual,  161 

necessary  to  life,  73 
Deville,  114 
Discipline,  126,  188 
Dostoieffsky,  13 
Drawing,  215 

Dubois-Reymond,  143,  146 
Dupanloup,  149 
Duties,  defined,  72  ;  creation  of,  68 

Education,  inconsistency  in,  38,  39 

influence  of,  105 

object  of,  112,  159 

continuation  in  alter  life,  174 

the  best,  176 

inadequacy  of  purely  intellectual, 
178 

duty  of  State  in,  186 

secondary,  234 

classical,  234 

higher,  251 

of  girls,  260 

and  rotation  of  crops,  277 

and  evolution,  106,  283-296 

and  morality,  106 
England,  manual  training  in,  151 

gymnastics  in,  144 
Environment,  adaptation  to,  49 
Epicurus,  182 


Erudition,  175,  218 

Espinas,  287 

Ethics,  in  schools,  181 

Eton,  117 

Evidence,  of  children,  23 

difficulty  in  estimating,  243 
Evolution,  moral,  96 

and  education,  106,  283-296 
Examinations,  258,  274 

their  effect  on  memory,  172 

competition  and,  249,  271 
Exercise,    physical,     128,     vide 
Physical  Training 

of  memory,  172 

"  Faculties,"  French  and  German, 

253  ^/  seq. 
Fatality,  63 
Forces,  idea,  64,  74,  89,  295,  and 

Preface,  ix. 
Frederick  III.,  180 
Free  will,  63,  84 
French  gymnastics,  148 

Gall,  103 

Gallon,  26 

Games    involve    work,     164,    vide 

Physical  Training 
Garofalo,  95 
Genius,  104,  296 
Geography,  228 
German,  Universities,  252 

gymnastics,  142 
Girls,  education  of,  260  et  seq, 
Greek,  235 
Gymnastics,  vide  Physical  Training 

Habits,  46-60 

"  Half-timers,"  134 

Harrow,  117,  150 

Health  and  sins,  32 

Herbart,  109,  163,  187 

Heredity,  32,  44,  ch.  ii.  passim,  97, 

100- 1 10,  ch.  ix.  passim 
Hertel,  262 
Higher  Education,  251 
Hindoos,  their  mysticism,  30 
History,  219,  223,  241 
Hoenig,  228 
Holiday  tours,  153 
Hygienic     conditions,      113,     139, 

141,  150,  280 


INDEX. 


30s 


Hypnotism,  vide  Suggestion 

Ideas,  fixed,  44,  58 

not  sole  motive  in  action,  84 

of  love,  85 

as  forces,  89,   64,    74,  295,   and 
Preface,  ix. 

development  of,  suggested,  7 
Imitation,  14,  16 
Impositions,  139 
Infecundity,  158,  261 
Inhibition,  55 
Instincts,  resistance  of,  9 

formula  of,  28 

moral  stages  of,  89 

force  of  moral  and  social,  54 

of  rescue,  55 

of  a  pointer,  55 

warlike,  99 
Instruction,  115 

civil  and  moral,  188,  197 

technical,  247 

aesthetic,  200 

[oubert,  43 

Kant,  91,  109,  183 
Knowledge,  useful  and  ornamental, 
173 

Lagneau,  140 
Laprade,  148 
Lateau,  Louise,  3 
Latin,  235 
Lavisse,  225,  255 
Learning,  love  of,  175 
Leibnitz,  169 
Liebault,  il 
Locke,  169 
Love,  idea  of,  85 
of  learning,  175 
Lying,  205 
Lyttleton,  121 

Man,  a  social  being,  32 

the  best,  33 
Maneuvrier,  240 
Manual  training,  150  et  seq. 

hygienic  effect  of,  150 

at  Ithaca,  151 

in  England,  151 
Maternal  religion,  265 


Mathematics,  245 
Maximation,  109 
Memory,  loss  of,  9 

exhaustion  of,  136 

exercise  of,  172 
Methods,  162 
Michelet,  169,  186 
Monoideism,  14,  23 
Montaigne,  iii,  129 
Montesquieu,  178 
Moral,  madness  and  idiocy,  94 

good,  69 

obligation,  79,  82,  88,  95 

fecundity,  81 

instincts,  stages  of,  89 

instincts,  origin,  96 

wounds,  92 

drovla,  93 

depravity,  95 

discipline,  188  e^  seq. 
Morality,  69,  75 

genesis  of,  71 

is  the  unity  of  the  being,  79 

and  the  social  instinct,  81 

negative,  92 

dissolution  of,  92 

and  education,  106 

in  boarding-schools,  114 

of  Confucius,  31 
Morphinomania,  7 
Movements,  muscular,  14 
Myers,  156 
Mysticism,  Hindoo,  30 

Natural  reactions,  188 
Normal  types,  75 
Normality,  75,  78 

Obligation,  sense  of,  88 

formula  of,  59 

solidarity  of  moral,  82 

moral,  95 
Objectivation  of  types,  39 
Obsession,  defined,  57 
Order,  a  habit,  51 
Overpressure,  intellectual,  iii 

physical,  120 

general,  130 

in  lyceums,  134 

in  primary  schools,  139 

in  great  French  schools,  256 

sterility  from,  261 


3o6 


INDEX. 


Pain,  68 

Pascal,  237 

Patriotism,  224 

Peter,  138 

Pessimism,  156 

Physical  training,  160 

Gymnastics,  Swedish,   143  ;  Ger- 
man,    142  ;     English,     144  ; 
French,  148 
inferiority  to  games,  147 
compared    with    games,     120, 
IJ59,  140 
Games  involve  work,  164 

Physical  overpressure,  120 

Plato,  209 

Pleasure,  68 

Population,  growth  of,  155 

Power  begetting  duty,  72 

Precocity,  danger  of,  80 

Psittacism,  169 

Punishment,  35,  37,  139 

Ravaisson,  213 
Reactions,  natural,  188 
Religion,  maternal,  265 

of  the  school,  185 
Remorse,  76,  91 

in  children,  41 
Renan,  115,  123 
Representation  of  Acts,  64 
Reversion,  99 
Ribot,  99,  286 
Richet,  9,  39,  Appendices 
Rochard,  270 
Rochefoucauld,  La,  84 
Rousseau,  142,  151,  169,  188 
Royer,  Madame,  100 
Rugby,  117 
Russia,  **real  schools"  in,  180 

Salpetriere,  il 
Salvation,  31 
Science,  245 

Scholarships,  boarding,  125 
Schools  and  religion,  185 

Russian,  **real,"  180 

Anarchic,  1^0  eiseq. 
Selection..  80 
Sentiments,  suggestion  of,  4 

complexity  ol,  28 
Simon,  127,  128,  257 
Singing,  215 


Socrates,  86,  176 
Somnambulism,  vide  Suggestion 
Solidarity,  consciousness  of,  33,  40, 
82,83 

of  responsibility,  90 

of  moral  obligation,  82 
Solitude,  76 
Spencer,    80,    97,    112,    130,    152, 

163,  188,  198,  247,  261,  283 
Sterility,  158,  261 
Stigmatics,  3 
Suggestion,  nervous,  2-12 

psychological,  moral,  and  social, 
12  23 

a  means  of  moral  education, 
and  an  '  influence  modifying 
heredity,  23-46 

a  nascent  instinct,  5 

in  therapeutics,  9-1 1 

when  irresistible,  14,  25 

psycho- motor,  14 

muscular,  21 

auto-,  23,  24 

effect  upon  the  intellect,  29 
Sully,  296 
Swedish  gymnastics,  143 

Tasks,  children's,  29,  139 
Technical  instruction,  247 
Temper  in  children,  41 
Tobacco,  abuse  of,  cured,  7 
Tolstoi,  188,  219,  229 
Tuke,  Dr.  Hack,  2 
Tyndall,  152,  168 
Types,  objectivation  of,  39 
normal,  75 

Universities,  German,  252 
French,  253 

Vice,  32 
Voisin,  10 

Volition,  defined,  61 
Voltaire,  166 

Walks,  128 

Will,  to  be  trained,  not  broken,  34 

creation  of,  17 
Words,  power  of,  17 

are  inceptive  actions,  19 
Writer's  cramp,  138 
Wundt,  97 


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PHYSIOGNOMY  AND  EXPRESSION.  (Illustrated.)  By 
P.  Mantegazza.     336  pages. 

"  A  good,  popular  treatment  of  the  subject  of  physiognomy,  which  should 
embody  the  results  of  recent  scientific  inquiry,  was  decidedly  a  desideratum, 
and  in  the  volume  before  us  we  have  the  want  very  adequately  met." — 
Sheffield  Independent, 

EVOLUTION  AND  DISEASE.  By  J.  Bland  Sutton,  F.R.C.S. 

With  137  Illustrations,  and  304  pages. 

"  The  publisher  and  editor  of  the  series,  and  the  ingenious  author  certainly 
deserve  congratulation,  for  the  book  opens  up  from  a  distance  what  seemed  a 
very  dark  country,  and  proves  that  many  diseases  are  neither  unnatural  nor 
unintelligible,  and  that  pathology  is  not  necessarily  pessimistic." — Scottish 
Leader, 

THE  VILLAGE  COMMUNITY.  With  special  reference  to  its 
Survivals  in  Britain.  By  G.  Laurence  Gomme,  Director  of  the 
Folk-Lore  Society.     With  Numerous  Maps  and  Plans. 

'*  Mr.  Gomme,  while  considering  generally  the  Aryan  local  institutions  as 
developed  in  Europe  and  Asia,  has  devoted  special  attention  to  Village 
Communities  in  England.  He  has  gone  to  the  best  sources,  and  has  told  us 
practically  all  that  we  can  at  present  know  about  the  way  in  which  village  life 
has  been  organised  and  developed." — London  Echo, 

THE  CRIMINAL.  By  Havelock  Ellis.  With  many  Illus- 
trations. 

"  As  a  clever  summary  of  all  there  is  at  present  to  say  upon  a  socially  most 
important  question,  the  book  should  widely  be  welcomed." — Yorkshire  Post, 

"  The  author's  own  views  concerning  the  lines  of  reform  are  expressed  with 
candour,  moderation,  and  an  utter  absence  of  extravagance ;  but  they  are  of 
less  importance  than  the  vast  body  of  fact  which  he  has  brought  together  with 
such  industry  and  enthusiasm.  The  book  may  be  described  as  a  pioneer 
volume,  and  as  such  it  cannot  fail  to  be  useful." — Manchester  Exa?niner. 


New  York :  Scribner  &  Welford. 


SANITY  AND  INSANITY.     By  Dr.  C.  Mercier. 

"  Taken  as  a  whole,  it  is  the  brightest  book  on  the  physical  side  of  mental 
science  published  in  our  time." — Pall  Mall  Gazette, 

"  A  more  ably  written  and  vigorously  thought  book  on  the  subject  of  which 
it  treats  it  would  be  difficult  to  find." — Scott  is  k  Leader, 

HYPNOTISM.     By  Dr.  Albert  Moll  (Berlin). 

**  Of  all  the  works  published  on  the  subject,  from  that  of  La  Fontaine,  the 
French  Magnetiser,  who  made  public  experiments  in  Manchester  in  1841, 
down  to  the  records  of  the  modern  school  at  Nancy,  Dr.  Moll's  work  is  the 
one  most  likely  to  appeal  to  the  ordinary  lay  reader." — Galignan^s  Messenger, 

MANUAL  TRAINING.     By  Dr.  C  M.  Woodward,  Director 

of  the  Manual  Training  School,   Washington  University,  St.    Louis, 

Mo.     Illustrated. 

**  There  is  no  greater  authority  on  the  subject  of  manual  training  than 

Professor  Woodward.  .  .  .  Professor  Woodward  is  not  less  instructive  as  a 

practical  man  than  as  a  theorist,  and  his  book  may  be  confidently  recommended 

to  those  who  wish  to  know  what  may  be  done  and  what  has  been  done  in 

America  in  the  direction  of  systematic  instruction  of  this  kind." — Manchester 

Guardian. 

THE  SCIENCE  OF  FAIRY  TALES.  By  Edwin  Sydney 
Hartland. 
This  volume  deals  with  those  fairy  tales  or  Folk-tales  which  contain  a 
supernatural  element,  and  which  are  known  as  Sagas  and  Nursery  Tales  (or 
Marchen), — tales  which  are  known  to  be  often  of  world-wide  extension,  and 
the  study  of  which  (significant  and  interesting  on  so  many  accounts)  is  now  an 
important  and  fascinating  branch  of  Folk  Lore. 

PRIMITIVE  FOLK.     By  Elie  Reclus. 

An  account — founded  on  the  narratives  both  of  early  and  of  recent  travellers 
— of  various  of  the  most  primitive  races  still  existing  in  the  world,  the  Esqui- 
maux, the  hill-tribes  of  India,  Nairs,  etc.  The  birth-customs,  food-customs, 
marriage-customs,  funeral-customs,  etc.,  of  these  races  are  investigated  in 
detail,  with  special  reference  to  the  light  which  the  beginnings  of  civilisation 
throw  on  its  more  advanced  stages  of  progress. 

BACTERIA    AND     THEIR     PRODUCTS.      Bv    Dr.    Sims 

WOODHEAD. 


Other  volumes  to  follow  at  short  intervals,  including  "The  Laws  of  Life  in 
Language,"  "The  Evolution  of  Marriage,"  " The  Development  of  Electro-Magnetic 
Theory,'  "Matter  and  Force,"  "Industrial  Development,"  "The  Factors  of  Organic 
Evolution,"  "Education  and  Heredity,"  "  Genius,"  "  Wages,"  etc.,  etc. 

The  following  Writers  are  preparing  volumes  for  this  Series: — 

Prof.  E.  D.  Cope,  Prof.  G.  F.  Fitzgerald,  Prof.  J.  Geikie,  E.  C.  K. 
Gonner,  Prof.  J.  Jastrow  (Wisconsin),  Prof.  C.  H.  Herford,  Prof.  Karl 
Pearson,  Prof.  Lombroso,  etc.,  etc. 

New  York :  Scribner  &  Welford. 


IBSEN'S  FAMOUS  PpSE  DRPAS. 

(COMPLETE    IN    FIVE    VOLUMES.) 

Edited  by  WILLIAM  ARCHER. 

i2mo,  CLOTH,  PRICE  $1.25  PER  VOLUME, 

Since  the  publication  (under  arrangement  with  Henrik  Ibsen)  of 
the  uniform  and  authoritative  edition  in  English  of  his  Prose  Dramas, 
Ibsen  has  become  more  widely  known  in  this  country.  He  is  now 
gaining  recognition  here  not  merely  on  account  of  his  treatment  of 
social  questions  and  of  his  unconventional  dramatic  methods,  but  in 
view  of  his  literary  qualities,  his  eminence  as  an  artist  and  thinker, 
which  are  now  seen  to  entitle  him  to  a  special  position  in  the 
higher  regions  of  contemporary  literature. 

VOL,  L 

With  Portrait  of  the  Author^  and  Biographical  Introduction  by 
William  Archer. 

This  volume  contains— "A  DOLL'S  HOUSE,"  "THE 
LEAGUE  OF  YOUTH"  (never  before  translated),  and 
"THE  PILLARS  OF  SOCIETY." 

VOL,  IL 

"GHOSTS,"  "AN  ENEMY  OF  THE  PEOPLE,"  and  "THE 
WILD  DUCK."  With  an  Introductory  Note  by  William 
Archer. 

VOL.  Ill 

"LADY  INGER  OF  OSTRAt,"  "THE  VIKINGS  AT 
HELGELAND,"  "THE  PRETENDERS."  With  an 
Introductory  Note  by  William  Archer,  and  Portrait  of 
Ibsen. 

VOL,  IV, 

"EMPEROR  AND  GALILEAN."  Translated  by  William 
Archer. 

Vol,    V.  will  be  published  shortly. 


New  York:  Scribner  &  Welford. 


The  sequence  of  the  plays  in  each  volume  will  be  chronological  ; 
and  the  set  of  volumes  comprising  the  dramas  will  thus  present  them, 
when  completed,  in  chronological  order. 

"  The  art  of  prose  translation  does  not  perhaps  enjoy  a  very  high  literary 
status  in  England,  but  we  have  no  hesitation  in  numbering  the  present  version 
of  Ibsen,  so  far  as  it  has  gone  (Vols.  I.  and  II.),  among  the  very  best  achieve- 
ments, in  that  kind,  of  our  generation." — Academy, 

"We  have  seldom,  if  ever,  met  with  a  translation  so  absolutely  idiomatic." 
— Glasgow  Herald. 

"Ibsen,  however,  may  safely  be  left  to  speak  for  himself.  Every  com- 
petent student  must  recognise  that,  whatever  his  success,  he  has  attempted  a 
giant's  task  with  something  like  a  giant's  strength.'* — Scottish  Leader, 

**  The  League  of  Youth  is  fresh  to  us,  and,  as  it  is  in  itself  important,  it  will 
have  a  wide  vogue  among  the  fast-growing  public  which  looks  with  eager 
interest  to  everything  that  Ibsen  has  to  say,  and  regards  him  more  and  more 
as  one  of  the  master-teachers  and  pioneers  of  the  age." — Star, 

"Readers  may  show  their  gratitude  to  Mr.  Archer  for  his  translations  by 
asking  for  more.  In  the  meantime  this  authorised  version  of  the  prose  plays 
will  be  heartily  welcomed  by  a  large  circle.  ** — Scotsman, 


GREAT  WRITERS. 

A  NEW  SERIES  OF  CRITICAL  BIOGRAPHIES  OF  FAMOUS 
WRITERS  OF  EUROPE  AND  AMERICA. 

LIBRARY  EDITION. 

Printed  on  large  paper  of  extra  quality^  in  handsome  binding^ 
Demy  %vo^  price  ^i.oo  each. 


ALPHABETICAL  LIST. 


PRESS  NOTICES, 

Life  of  Jane  Austen.     By  Goldwin  Smith. 

**  Mr.  Goldwin  Smith  has  added  another  to  the  not  inconsiderable  roll 
of  eminent  men  who  have  found  their  delight  in  Jane  Austen.      Certainly 
a  fascinating  book." — Spectator, 
Life  of  Balzac.     By  Frederick  Wedmore. 

"A  finished  study,  a  concentrated  summary,  a  succinct   analysis   of 
Balzac's  successes  and   failures,  and  the  causes  of  these   successes  and 
failures,  and  of  the  scope  of  his  genius." — Scottish  Leader, 
Life  of  Charlotte  Bronte.     By  A.  Birrell. 

**  Those  who  know  much  of  Charlotte  Bronte  will  learn  more,  and  those 
who  know  nothing  about  her  will  find  all  that  is  best  worth  learning  in 
Mr.  Birrell's  pleasant  book. " — St,  James^  Gazette, 
Life  of  Browning.     By  William  Sharp. 

"  This  little  volume  is  a  model  of  excellent  English,  and  in  every  respect 
it  seems  to  us  what  a  biography  should  be." — Public  Opinion, 

New  York  :  Scribner  &  Welford. 


Life  of  Byron.     By  Hon.  Roden  Noel. 

"He  (Mr.  Noel)  has  at  any  rate  given  to  the  world  the  most  credible 
and  comprehensible  portrait  of  the  poet  ever  drawn  with  pen  and  ink."— 
Manchester  Examine^'. 
Life  of  Bunyan.     By  Canon  Venables. 

"A  most  intelligent,  appreciative,  and  valuable  memoir." — Scotsman, 
Life  of  Burns.     By  Professor  Blackie. 

"  The  editor  certainly  made  a  hit  when  he  persuaded  Blackie  to  write 
about  Burns." — Fall  Mall  Gazette. 
Life  of  Thomas  Carlyle.     By  R.  Garnett,  LL.D. 

"This  is  an  admirable  book.     Nothing  could  be  more  felicitous  and 
fairer  than  the  way  in  which  he  takes  us  through  Carlyle's  life  and  works." 
— Pall  Mall  Gazette. 
Life  of  Coleridge.     By  Hall  Caine. 

"  Brief  and  vigorous,  written  throughout  with  spirit  and  great  literary 
skill. " — Scotsman. 
Life  of  Congreve.     By  Edmund  Gosse. 

"  Mr.  Gosse  has  written  an  admirable  and  most  interesting  biography  of 
a  man  of  letters  who  is  of  particular  interest  to  other  men  of  letters." — 
The  Academy, 
Life  of  Crabbe.     By  T.  E.  Kebbel. 

"No  English  poet  since  Shakespeare  has  observed  certain  aspects  of 
nature  and  of  human  life  more  closely ;  and  in  the  qualities  of  manliness 
and  of  sincerity  he  is  surpassed  by  none.  .  .  .     Mr.  Kebbel's  monograph 
is  worthy  of  the  subject." — Athemsum, 
Life  of  Darwin.     By  G.  T.  Bettany. 

"Mr.   G.  T.  Bettany's  Lifr  of  Darwin  is  a  sound  and  conscientious 
work." — Saturday  Review. 
Life  of  Dickens.     By  Frank  T.  Marzials. 

"  Notwithstanding  the  mass  of  matter  that  has  been  printed  relating  to 
Dickens  and  his  works  ...  we  should,  until  we  came  across  this  volume, 
have  been  at  a  loss  to  recommend  any  popular  life  of  England's  most 
popular  novelist  as  being  really  satisfactory.  The  difficulty  is  removed  by 
Mr.  Marzials's  little  book." — Athenceum, 
Life  of  George  Eliot.     By  Oscar  Browning. 

*' We  are  thankful  for  this  interesting  addition  to  our  knowledge  of  the 
great  novelist." — Literary  World. 
Life  of  Emerson.     By  Richard  Garnett,  LL.D. 

"As  to  the  larger  section  of  the  public,  to  whom  the  series  of  Great 
Writers  is  addressed,  no  record  of  Emerson's  life  and  work  could  be  more 
desirable,  both  in  breadth  of  treatment  and  lucidity  of  style,  than   Dr. 
Garnett' s." — Saturday  Review, 
Life  of  Goethe.     By  James  Sime. 

"Mr.  James  Sime's  competence  as  a  biographer  of  Goethe,  both  in 
respect  of  knowledge  of  his  special  subject,  and  of  German  literature 
generally,  is  beyond  question." — Manchester  Guardian. 
Life  of  Goldsmith.     By  Austin  Dobson. 

"The  story  of  his  literary  and  social  life  in  London,  with  all  its 
humorous  and  pathetic  vicissitudes,  is  here  retold,  as  none  could  tell  it 
better." — Daily  News, 

New  York  :  Scribner  &  Welford. 


Life  of  Nathaniel  Hawthorne.     By  Moncure  Conway. 

**  Easy  and  conversational  as  the  tone  is  throughout,  no  important  fact 
is  omitted,  no  useless  fact  is  recalled. " — Speaker, 

Life  of  Heine.     By  William  Sharp. 

"  This  is  an  admirable  monograph  .  .  .  more  fully  written  up  to  the 
level  of  recent  knowledge  and  criticism  of  its  theme  than  any  other  English 
work. " — Scotsman^ 

Life  of  Victor  Hugo.     By  Frank  T.  Marzials. 

'*  Mr.  Marzials's  volume  presents  to  us,  in  a  more  handy  form  than  any 
English,  or  even  French  handbook  gives,  the  summary  of  what,  up  to  the 
moment  in  which  we  write,  is  known  or  conjectured  about  the  life  of  the 
great  poet." — Saturday  Review, 
Life  of  Samuel  Johnson.     By  Colonel  F.  Grant. 

"  Colonel  Grant  has  performed  his  task  with  diligence,  sound  judgment, 
good  taste,  and  accuracy." — Illustrated  London  News, 

Life  of  Keats.     By  W.  M.  Rossetti. 

"Valuable  for  the  ample  information  which  it  contains." — Cambridge 
Independent. 
Life  of  Lessing.     By  T.  W.  Rolleston. 

"  A  picture  of  Lessing  which  is  vivid  and  truthful,  and  has  enough  of 
detail  for  all  ordinary  purposes." — Nation  (New  York). 
Life  of  Longfellow.     By  Prof.  Eric  S.  Robertson. 
"  A  most  readable  little  book." — Liverpool  Mercury, 
Life  of  Marryat     By  David  Hannay. 

"What  Mr.  Hannay  had  to  do — give  a  craftsman-like  account  of  a 
great  craftsman  who  has  been  almost  incomprehensibly  undervalued — 
could  hardly  have  been  done  better  than  in  this  little  volume." — Man 
Chester  Guardian. 
Life  of  Mill.     By  W.  L.  Courtney. 

**  A  most  sympathetic  and  discriminating  memoir."— (r/(W^((?w  Herald, 

Life  of  Milton.     By  Richard  Garnett,  LL.D. 

**  Within  equal  compass  the  life-story  of  the  great  poet  of  Puritanism  has 
never  been  more  charmingly  or  adequately  told." — Scottish  Leader, 

Life  of  Dante  Gabriel  Rossetti.     By  J.  Knight. 

**  Mr.  Knight's  picture  of  the  great  poet  and  painter  is  the  fullest  and 
best  yet  presented  to  the  public." — The  Graphic, 

Life  of  Scott.     By  Professor  Yonge. 

"  For  readers  and  lovers  of  the  poems  and  novels  of  Sir  Walter  Scott, 
this  is  a  most  enjoyable  book." — Aberdeen  Free  Press, 

Life  of  Arthur  Schopenhauer.     By  William  Wallace. 

"  The  series  of  *  Great  Writers'  has  hardly  had  a  contribution  of  more 
marked  and  peculiar  excellence  than  the  book  which  the  Whyte  Professor 
of  Moral  Philosophy  at  Oxford  has  written  for  it  on  the  attractive  and 
still  (in  England)  little  known  subject  of  Schopenhauer." — Manchester 
Guardian, 

Life  of  Shelley.     By  William  Sharp. 

**  The  criticisms  .  .  .  entitle  this  capital  monograph  to  be  ranked  with 
the  best  biographies  of  Shelley. " —  Westminster  Review. 

New  York :  Scribner  &  Welford, 


Life  of  Sheridan.     By  Lloyd  Sanders. 

Life  of  Adam  Smith.     By  R.  B.  Haldane,  M.P. 

**  Written  with  a  perspicuity  seldom   exemplified  when   dealing  with 
economic  science." — Scotsman, 
Life  of  Smollett.     By  David  Hannay. 

"  A  capital  record  of  a  writer  who  still  remains  one  of  the  great  masters 
of  the  English  novel." — Saturday  Review, 
Life  of  Schiller.     By  Henry  W.  Nevinson. 

"  This  is  a  well-written  little  volume,  which  presents  the  leading  facts  of 
the  poet's  life  in  a  neatly  rounded  picture." — Scotsman. 
Life  of  Thackeray.     By  Herman  Merivale  and  Frank  T.  Marzials. 
Complete    Bibliography  to   each   volum«,   by  J.    P.    Anderson,    British 
Museum. 

Volumes  are  in  preparation  by  ARTHUR  SYMONS,  W.  E.  HENLEY, 
H.  E.  WATTS,  COSMO  MONKHOUSE,  FRANK  T.  MARZIALS, 
W.  H.  POLLOCK,  JOHN  ADDINGTON  SYMONDS,  STEPNIAK, 
etc.,  etc. 


"  THE  MOST  ATTRACTIVE  BIRTHDA  Y  BOOK  EVER 
PUBLISHED.'' 

Quarto,  cloth  elegant,  gilt  edges,  emblematic  design  on  cover,  $2.25. 
May  also  be  had  in  a  variety  of  Fancy  Bindings. 

THE  MUSIC  OF  THE  POETS: 

A   MUSICIANS'    BIRTHDAY    BOOK. 

Edited  by  Eleonore  D'Esterre  Keeling. 

This  is  a  unique  Birthday  Book.  Against  each  date  are  given  the  names  of 
musicians  whose  birthday  it  is,  together  with  a  verse-quotation  appropriate  to 
the  character  of  their  different  compositions  or  performances.  A  special 
feature  of  the  book  consists  in  the  reproduction  in  fac-simile  of  autographs, 
and  autographic  music,  of  living  composers.  The  selections  of  verse  (from 
before  Chaucer  to  the  present  time)  have  been  made  with  admirable  critical 
insight.  English  verse  is  rich  in  utterances  of  the  poets  about  music,  and 
merely  as  a  volume  of  poetry  about  music  this  book  makes  a  charming 
anthology.  Three  sonnets  by  Mr.  Theodore  Watts,  on  the  **Fausts"  of 
Berlioz,  Schumann,  and  Gounod,  have  been  written  specially  for  this  volume. 
It  is  illustrated  with  designs  of  various  musical  instruments,  etc. ;  autographs 
of  Rubenstein,  Dvorak,  Greig,  Mackenzie,  Villiers  Stanford,  etc.,  etc. 

"To  musical  amateurs  this  will  certainly  prove  the  most 
attractive  birthday  book  ever  published." — Manchester  Guardian, 

"  One  of  those  happy  ideas  that  seems  to  have  been  yearning 
for  fulfilment.  .  .  .  The  book  ought  to  have  a  place  on  every 
music  stand." — Scottish  Leader, 


New  York  :  Scribner  &  Welford. 


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